


the way of the voice

by fleurdeliser, ohnoktcsk, tuesdaysgone



Category: Comics Industry RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2226225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoktcsk/pseuds/ohnoktcsk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is one of the finest skalds in the kingdom, and one of the few invited by the queen herself to perform at the kingdom's centennial celebrations. But everything he's worked so hard for is thrown into jeopardy when he finds himself the target of a nasty curse. After all, what is a skald without a voice?</p><p>Desperate to break the curse, and to keep anyone from finding out about his affliction, Gerard seeks help from the kingdom's most powerful—and reclusive—mage, Grant Morrison. Morrison and his assistant, Frank Iero, quickly determine that the curse on Gerard is both intensely complicated and insidiously specific. To break it, they'll need to search the kingdom for the spell's origin, and then work to unravel its many layers. With the centennial celebrations only a few weeks away, the clock is ticking. Will they recover the Skald's missing voice in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	the way of the voice

**Author's Note:**

> We were lucky enough to receive an EPIC mix for this story by the lovely concinnity. You can download it [here](https://www.dropbox.com/s/6aubne87eystea7/prolation-%20bbb2014w3.zip?dl=0%0A) or stream it [here](http://8tracks.com/ohnoktcsk/prolation).
> 
> Also, the talented Turlough was kind enough to make us a beautiful piece of art, embedded below. [Head over here and tell her how rad it is!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2244381)
> 
> Big thank you to our beta and indominitable italics wrangler, Ande! Also, thanks to the BBB mods for running the challenge! <333

  
art by [turlough](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2244381)

Gerard swept down the gleaming marble corridor of the Royal Library, drawing the key to his private reading room out of his cloak pocket as he went. It was a relief to be inside; it had been threatening rain all day, and Gerard could feel the chill in his fingers and toes despite the fine gloves and boots he wore.

He removed his hood and gloves, placed them on the table, then sorted through the stack of books he’d left there the night before. “Hmm. Don’t need that one. Why did I even ask for it?” he muttered to himself. “The Queen doesn’t want to hear about fertilizer at the Centennial.”

He picked up an open volume instead, tracing an appreciative finger over the illuminations, and lost himself in reading about historical harvest festivals for a while. Then he scratched his nose with his pen. “Maybe that’s why,” he mumbled and reached for the fertilizer volume again. A knock on the door to the reading room interrupted him. “Come in,” he called.

A library attendant entered, a small stack of books in her arms. “Your pardon, Skald,” she murmured, “but here are the volumes you requested from the Kenning Collection.”

“Thank you,” he said absently, then remembered himself and looked up to give her a smile. “Truly.” Before he allowed himself to look at the books she had brought, he finished up his notes, humming a pastoral melody he notated in the margins. That would do nicely for the section about the countryside.

He turned the page over and started a new section for the harvest, embellishing it with a sketch of an apple. “Harvest dance, harvest dance.”

Being asked to give a performance at the the royal Centennial celebrations was an immense honor. Gerard had performed for the Queen before; Her Majesty was a renowned patroness of the arts, a talented painter herself, and made a regular practice of inviting the kingdom’s artists to share their gifts with her court. But the Centennial would see the kingdom hosting dignitaries from many lands. Only a select few artists had been chosen to represent the Kingdom of Zenit during the celebrations, and Gerard knew that only a masterwork would do.

He had months to write it yet, but he knew himself. Knew even if he worked all day every day until the Centennial, he would still be tweaking and perfecting until the last moment he was allowed. The concept should be lofty, the execution simple, but with hidden depths—something Gerard knew was his specialty.

“Treasure hidden to the eye,” he murmured thoughtfully. He tapped his quill thoughtfully against his cheek.

He finally decided he was done making notes on the pastoral section and reached for the stack of new books. They were mostly focused on the ports and seafaring adventures of the kingdom. “Perfect,” he murmured.

Then his eye was caught by a slim leather-bound book. The design of the cover was beautiful, and he took a moment to admire the craftsmanship. There was a mother-of-pearl ship inlaid in the leather. It was stunning. He almost didn’t want to look away from the cover. Finally, somewhat reluctantly, he opened the book.

Suddenly, his chest seized and he gasped for air. He tried to call for help, but the words wouldn’t _come_ , and then he knew no more.

When Gerard woke, he was tucked tightly under too-hot coverlets and his first instinct was to cry out. But, although he could hear other sounds around him—the rustle of the bedclothes, the muted murmur of conversation from somewhere in the distance—he didn’t hear the sound of his own voice. His eyes snapped open.

Perhaps… perhaps he’d just caught fever and lost his voice. That had happened to him once before, and he’d hated every moment. He opened his mouth and tried to say something, anything.

Nothing came out.

He didn’t feel at all ill, either. He was just hot, too hot. He struggled free of the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. The room around him was small but clean, painted in soothing colors, with a curtained window across from the bed. It took a moment for his memories to catch up with him, but at length he realized where he must be: the Houses of Healing.

“Hello?” he called. Or rather, tried to call. But again, no sound issued forth.

He thought back to the last thing he remembered. He’d been in the reading room, researching for the Centennial. He stopped trying to say words and attempted to moan. Still nothing. He was having a hard time tamping down his growing panic.

He tried again and again, but there was just…nothing. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t groan or cough or even _whistle_. No matter what he did, he remained utterly silent. Voiceless.

Frustrated, he shoved a metal dish off the bedside table, and a small green-robed figure scurried in almost immediately at the resulting clatter. “Skald Gerard,” the healer exclaimed. “You’re awake. You should not be out of bed.”

Gerard made a frustrated gesture, motioning towards his throat.

“Your throat? Oh, you can’t speak?” she asked. He knew the face he was making wasn’t kind, but he couldn’t help it. “That is…unexpected,” she said.

He widened his eyes, mouthed a curse, and wished he had something else to toss across the room.

She convinced him to get back into bed and sent an attendant to go and fetch some lemon tea, “For your throat, dear.” Then she began poking and prodding at him, as though she was trying to bully his voice out from wherever it was hiding.

“Our first thought was that you’d fallen ill, but you had no fever, so we thought perhaps you’d had a fit of some sort. But that doesn’t affect the voice,” she explained as she poked. “Laryngitis seems a simplistic explanation, but we’ll run more tests.”

“More tests” did not seem to suggest he’d be leaving. He had a masterpiece to write, damn it all.

At length, someone brought him a notebook and a pencil. He wrote down everything he remembered and finally, after hours of whispered conversations and comings and goings, the healer called a colleague who specialized in cursebreaking because, “I just don’t know what else it could be.”

Unfortunately, Gerard could think of a host of reasons why he might be targeted for a curse. He didn’t precisely live a retiring life. And this curse in particular would be…fitting.

The cursebreaker came and cast spell after spell. “Well, you’re definitely cursed,” she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. “But none of the standard cursebreaking incantations are doing the job. I’ll call for some potions and see if those are effective.”

 _Is that SAFE?_ Gerard scrawled on his paper, brows drawing together.

“Perfectly safe,” said the cursebreaker, placidly. Gerard did not feel reassured.

After a while, an assistant brought in a cart with many different potions on them. The cursebreaker handed them to Gerard to drink, one by one.

His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. The healer and her colleagues were kind, but not calming. And nothing, _nothing_ was working. No matter how hard he willed it, he couldn’t make his voice come out. The curse breaker grew more puzzled with each failure. Gerard couldn’t tell if he was feeling queasy because of the potions, or because he was starting to panic again. Finally he clapped his hands over his mouth like a child and shook his head.

The gathered healers paused, and the healer who had originally come to attend him said, “Perhaps that is enough for right now. I’m sure that the Skald is still very tired.”

He was trying not to throw up or hyperventilate, really, but tired would do. “Would you like some solid food brought up?” the healer asked. Gerard nodded and reached for the little notebook, but she added, “You’re welcome, Skald,” and swished out in a flurry of green. The cursebreaker and attendants followed.

Gerard was left alone, in a room that was far, far too quiet. He let himself breathe a little harder just so there was _some_ sort of noise in the room. He wished for a guitar, or a mandolin, or a lap harp—anything that would let him _speak_ , even metaphorically. He felt very small, and very lost. After all, he was a skald, and what was a skald without a voice?

“Nothing,” he tried to say. He grabbed the pillow from behind him and threw it as hard as he could. He had to get out of here before he went crazy.

An attendant appeared a few minutes later, bearing a tray with a simple, hearty supper of bread, cheese, and some stew. Gerard waved to make sure he had the attendant’s attention, then held up the notebook, where he’d written, _Please ask the healer back in._

“Of course, sir,” he said. Gerard took a bite of stew and bread, but he could hardly swallow it down.

The green-robed healer entered the room a few minutes later and Gerard had his notebook prepared. _I cannot stay here. Please bring me my things._

The healer looked alarmed. “Skald Gerard,” she said, “you are under the effects of an unknown curse. I really think you should stay here, at least until the nature of your affliction is determined.”

 _I can easily return for tests if necessary,_ he wrote. _But I cannot stay here._

She frowned. “This is against my recommendation, but I cannot keep you.” Gerard knew his relief was plain on his face, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I strongly advise you to return as soon as possible. The cursebreaker is very invested in your case,” she said and called in the attendant again. “Please get Skald Way his personal items.”

When the bundle of his clothing and effects was brought in, he fingered the leather of his glove for a moment and nearly cried. His fine clothes, his gesture of respect to the palace… If this curse persisted, he would be utterly ruined.

He carefully dressed and made his way out of the Houses of Healing and then to his small home. He tucked his notes for his composition away in his desk and ran his fingers restlessly over the strings of a harp. What to do, what to do.

Breaking the curse was plainly the most important thing. He’d have to go to a mage. He was certain the cursebreaker in the Houses of Healing was well-trained, but Gerard had the feeling the woman would be no match for this.

* * *

“Someone’s coming up the path,” Frank told Grant as he walked into the workroom, clearing a space on Grant’s desk with his elbow and thumping down the giant book he was carrying.

Grant looked up from the protection charm he was building. “We don’t have any appointments, do we?”

“No. Schedule is clear all day,” Frank replied.

Grant sighed. “I really was _hoping_ for some uninterrupted time to work on this. Serves me right for even thinking it, I suppose.”

“You’re good enough at interrupting your own time,” Frank sniffed.

Grant stripped off his work gloves and stood. “Well, I suppose it’ll keep. Shall we go and see who’s come?”

“Suppose we should,” Frank replied with a smile. The house and workshop were just far enough off the beaten path that they rarely got random people at their door. Frank cast a hopeless look around the workshop. He hadn’t had time to straighten in here today, so hopefully this was a social call.

“You have ink on your face,” he warned Grant, as they looked to the door.

“Get it for me?” Grant asked. “You know if I try myself, I’ll just smear it about.” It was true, he would. Frank breathed out through his nose and pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. Grant gave him a rueful smile. “I’d be a mess without you, Frank.”

“You’d have some other apprentice to keep you organized,” Frank said and gave Grant’s cheek one last swipe to get the ink away.

“You’re my assistant now,” Grant reminded him.

“And I earned it,” Frank replied. “There. You’re presentable.”

Grant grinned at him. He still had a smudge high up on his cheek, and he’d clearly forgotten to shave this morning. He certainly didn’t _look_ like one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom.

The bell over the workshop door sounded just then and a young man about Frank’s age in fine clothes came inside.

“Hello,” Grant said pleasantly. The young man smiled back—he had a lovely smile, but his face looked strained—and held out a piece of paper. Grant took it, and a moment later he said, “I see. A curse, hm?”

The man nodded and Grant looked back at the paper.

“Gerard Way…the skald?” Another nod. “Skald Way,” Grant murmured. “I am so sorry to see you here. Is this your entire account here?” He waved the paper.

The skald nodded, but produced a notebook from inside of his coat. Frank realized, then, that he did recognize the man: he’d sung an epic at the winter festival two years before. Frank remembered the feeling of awe he’d taken away from the performance, that one man could make mere words take such powerful shapes. How awful.

Way scribbled frantically in his notebook then turned it toward Grant. “So the last thing you remember was seeing a beautiful book newly brought to you, and opening the book?” Grant said, clearly for Frank’s benefit. “In the Royal Library, no less… I imagine it would have to have been done with malicious intent. I heard you’ve been asked to perform at the Centennial.”

Way nodded.

“A coveted appointment, I’d imagine,” Grant murmured. “What made you choose me, Skald?”

The skald turned to a new page in his notebook. While they waited, Grant passed the original note over to Frank. Frank read through his story, sympathy growing with every word. He couldn’t even imagine how terrifying it must have been for the man. Grant refused to do curse work, but there were plenty of magicians with no such scruples.

The skald was well put-together, but there were clear signs of strain around his eyes. “Tea or coffee?” Frank asked when he looked up. “Sorry. Tea?” Skald Way shook his head. “Coffee?” That got an enthusiastic nod. “Happy to bring you some, Skald,” Frank murmured.

“My assistant is a man of many talents,” Grant said.

Frank fought the urge to make a rude gesture. “Damn right I am,” he muttered. When Grant looked at him, his eyes were twinkling merrily. “I suppose you’ll want a tea tray,” Frank said with a long suffering sigh. The skald looked back and forth between them, bemused. Frank rolled his eyes. “I do actually do magic,” he told Way.

“He does. He’s brilliant. He’s great,” Grant enthused.

“Focus, boss.” Frank gave the skald one last smile before slipping out of the sitting room and into the kitchen. He set the coffee going, prepared some sandwiches, and pulled down the biscuit tin. He could already tell this case was going to be his life for the foreseeable future.

That was all right with him. He was horrified by the specificity of this curse. Someone clearly wanted the skald silenced, and had gone to great lengths to see it done.

Frank carried everything out to the other room and set it in the table. “I suppose it will be easier for you to serve yourself,” Frank said to Way with an apologetic smile.

Way smiled back and leaned in to inspect the tray. He poured himself a mug of coffee and proceeded to add an alarming amount of cream and sugar to it. But Frank supposed the man _had_ just been cursed—he deserved whatever fucking cream and sugar he wanted.

Frank poured himself a mug of black tea and sat back. As he drank, he started casting a few simple curse detection spells, just so he would have a better feel for the sort of curse they were working with. The feedback he got back made him cringe instinctively. Grant, who was paying attention despite chatting politely at the skald, shot him an alarmed glance.

Frank grimaced. Whatever they were dealing with was fucking _complex_. He glanced at Way, then decided it would be best to not try to shield him from anything. “This curse is really complicated. More than almost anything I’ve ever encountered.”

Grant’s eyes widened. Frank nodded tightly. Way reached for his notebook.

 _Can it be broken?_ he scrawled.

“All spells can be broken,” Grant said, firmly. “Some are just more… resistant than others.” Way pressed his lips together, looking upset. “We will do everything in our power,” Grant promised. “And between Frank and me, we have rather a lot of power.”

Grant had a talent for sounding conceited. Frank had eventually decided it was endearing. But he wasn’t wrong. “I assume the Houses of Healing did all the standard tests?” Frank asked Way.

Way nodded, a sour look on his face neatly expressing his opinion of that experience. He scribbled a few lines in his notebook and turned it toward them. _They also gave me a sample of every potion they had. I was queasy for hours._

Frank shook his head. “Victim of efficiency. We can do better.”

They refreshed their drinks. Frank absently cast ever-warming charms on the mugs, because he knew this was likely to take a while. Way gave him the first genuine smile Frank had seen from him. It was a lovely smile, and Frank couldn’t help but smile back.

“This will require quite a lot of hands-on testing,” Grant said thoughtfully. “Skald, I know it’s a terrible imposition, but I think it would be best for you to come stay here while we work on your curse. As a houseguest. Nothing like the Houses of Healing, I promise.”

The skald looked rueful, and reached for his notebook again. _Thank you for the invitation. It would be a disaster if anyone at the palace got word of my… Affliction._

“Could you possibly spread word that you’re going away to the country to work on your piece?” Frank asked.

Way waved a hand and opened his mouth. When no sound came out, he huffed out a frustrated breath and started writing. _My brother is known at court. He can spread that around to the right people._

“Very well,” Grant said. “Do so, and pack some things for an extended visit. Frank will organize a comfortable workspace for you. For the moment, I suggest we move this discussion to the workshop. Let’s see if we can’t get a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

They trooped back to the workshop and Grant got out his books as he perused the list of potions Way had taken. He started marking pages and Frank automatically starting making a list to cross-reference.

The skald took a seat at one of the workbenches, watching them with wide, curious eyes. He seemed calm, but there was tension in his frame, and a moment later, he was scribbling in his notebook again. _Would you mind explaining to me what you’re doing?_

“Not at all,” Grant replied and started describing everything he was doing and why he was doing it. Way listened with an intense expression of concentration. Frank got the feeling that he would be asking questions already if he could.

Frank prepared a basic battery of analytical spells, designed to get the feel for the shape and size of the curse. The ones he had done in the sitting room were a start, but these gave more detailed and specific results. And of course, they weren’t all potions. Damn healers, thinking a little bottle could solve everything.

Grant laughed when Frank expressed this sentiment out loud. “To be fair, most of the afflictions they see can be,” Grant pointed out with a smile.

“Any idiot could tell this wasn’t going to be one of those things,” Frank sniffed.

“He’s a misanthrope,” Grant told the skald, with another smile. “Now, with your permission?” He reached out a hand toward Way’s throat. Way nodded tightly, tilting up his chin. “Let me know if you feel anything,” Grant said and murmured a few spells with his hand cupped gently around Way’s throat.

Frank bit his lip. It was sort of– no, that was ridiculous, he just needed to stop watching. Instead, he opened a new page in his own notebook and started detailing their observations.

By the end of the day, he was pretty sure they’d have a good idea of what they were dealing with and what sort of things they would need to do to break the curse. With everything they’d already found out, he was even more sure that this was only the start and was probably the easiest part of the whole thing.

Even with a battery of tests, it was hours before they had a strong response, when a piece of amberite stone Grant had bespelled reacted when Way breathed on it. When the amberite started to hum, all three of them sat up immediately.

“Fascinating,” Grant murmured, changed the spells on the amberite and told Way to breathe again.

Nothing. Way opened his mouth.

“What does it mean?” Grant asked. Way nodded. Grant tapped the amberite stone with a fingertip. “It means that the curse isn’t inside of you any more, if it ever was. If what you told us about the book was correct, I’d bet money that it was the cursed object, probably designed as a trap—one that took your voice.” Way’s eyes went wide. “Yes, that means we will have to retrieve the book before we can restore your voice, amongst the other things it will take to break the curse. I have an idea of where to look for more information now, though.”

“Meanwhile we ought to investigate who would have the means and the reason to do this to you,” Frank added pragmatically.

Way scowled, nodding, and flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. He scratched out a list.

“That many enemies?” Frank joked. The look Way gave him was so full of attitude Frank had to admire it.

“I’d imagine it’s more about the skald’s position,” Grant said, clearly amused. “Her Majesty may not have a court poet, but it’s well-known that you’re favored, especially since the announcement of the Centennial performances. And if the bard community is anything like the magical one…”

“Cutthroat,” Frank said. Grant and the skald nodded at the same time.

“Still, a curse like this would be expensive, too,” Frank added.

“So it would have to be somebody with a fair amount of coin to spend on indisposing you,” Grant said thoughtfully. “A rival bard, perhaps?”

Way tilted his head, looking thoughtful, and then circled a few names on the list.

Frank grinned nastily. “This part is my specialty.”

 _You fancy yourself a sleuth?_ Way scrawled, eyebrow raised.

“Nah,” Frank tells him. “I’m just… good at finding things. And persuasive.”

Way lifted an eyebrow. “Yes, he rather enjoys playing detective,” Grant told him. “As do I. We will pursue any avenues we need to– with your permission.”

Frank held back a snort. Silver-tongued devil.

 _Anything,_ Way wrote. _This curse must be broken. I cannot–_ he stopped, took a breath, and continued, with a steadier hand, _I would be ruined. Whatever the cost. Please._

“We’ll get it done, Skald Way,” Frank told him. “We always do.”

 _How do you require payment?_ Way wrote.

“Fifty gold per day, plus any additional expenses,” Grant said. That was the discount rate, Frank noted; Grant must be very intrigued by this curse, and the chance to help break it.

Way nodded. _More than reasonable._

It really was; they weren’t busy right now, but they weren’t exactly desperate.

They spent another half-hour or so fine-tuning some of the detection spells they’d already tried, now that they know what to look for. Grant gave Way a list of specific questions, and Way set about writing down the answers while they worked. Finally, it was getting late in the day, and they’d done all they could do for time being.

“If you’d like to return to your home for the night, you may,” Grant said. “Pack your bags and return tomorrow.”

Way nodded. _My instruments?_ he wrote.

“Have them delivered. We’ll set you up with a space to compose.”

 _Thank you,_ Way mouthed and made a frustrated face. The man had an unforgettable singing voice, but Frank was sad they couldn’t hear his speaking voice too.

Way departed shortly, promising to return the following day with some of his things. “This will be fucking interesting,” Frank said when he was out of sight.

“I don’t think it’s beyond our powers,” Grant mused. “But it will be -”

“Interesting?” Frank interrupted.

“Interesting,” Grant agreed, laughing. “But I’d rather the interesting clients than the boring ones, any day. And the skald seems interesting all on his own.”

“True enough,” Frank agreed. “I heard him perform once. It was amazing.”

“I’ve heard that,” Grant said. “I very much hope to get the chance.”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll make it happen. Now, I’m going to start dinner. Stew sound all right?”

“Always,” Grant replied and waved a hand around them. “I’ll clean up in here.”

“Don’t get distracted,” Frank said, although it was probably futile.

Grant put a hand to his heart, faux-wounded. “Me?”

Frank rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yes, you.”

“You know too much about me. You can never leave,” Grant chuckled and turned back to his work.

Sometimes Frank thought that he _should_ leave—go and open his own shop in the village back home. He could, now that he’d finished his apprenticeship, and he knew Grant would wish him the best, and even help him get set up. But the thing was, he didn’t want to.

He liked sharing a house with Grant, liked working with him and sharing chores and everything that came with it. They had a routine that worked. A life that worked. There was nothing in particular to entice him to leave. Save for the occasional nagging voice suggesting that he _should._

But he’d never held much with should, so he stayed. Even if he sometimes wondered if Grant _would_ ask him to stay.

Frank threw together the simple stew and set everything bubbling, spent a few minutes tidying, then went to fetch Grant. As predicted, Grant was sitting with a stack of random items in one hand, and his notes open in the other. “Cleaning, hm?” Frank laughed.

Grant had the good grace to look sheepish.

Frank smiled. “We can go through our notes over dinner, yeah?”

Grant nodded. “Yes, perfect. It smells lovely, Frank.”

Frank shrugged. “Nothing fancy.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Grant said. “Your food always is.”

He smiled broadly and squeezed Frank’s shoulder as he passed through the door. Grant had always treated Frank as more of an equal than anything else, even when he’d been just an apprentice. They shared the chores fairly equally, and Grant never made Frank do all the grunt work in the workshop.

Frank did it sometimes, but only because Grant was a genuine genius. But he was also kind, and sharply funny, and a bit absent-minded, and… Well. When Grant had offered Frank a position as his assistant after his apprenticeship was done, Frank had accepted gladly.

Frank visited home a few times a year. He missed it, missed his family, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Grant. At this point, he’d miss Grant and his work here just as much anyway. A magician’s life was never lacking in excitement, whatever the situation, but Grant had a way of attracting more excitement than most.

* * *

After dinner, Grant and Frank went back out to the workshop. Frank lit the lamps while Grant spread their notes out over the table. Frank got out his colored inks so he could work his organization magic. Grant just smiled. His own penmanship was atrocious, though he would occasionally draw cunning little pictures in the margins.

Instead, Grant went prowling through the bookshelves. He plucked several off the shelves. He knew he had one that at least _mentioned_ the spell in question. A potential match, anyway. There were practically as many ways to curse objects as there were objects.

“Frank,” he said after a moment. “Do you know where I put that volume by Spiro?”

“Last I saw, it was on the table by the window,” Frank replied and pushed his spectacles up his nose. He arched an eyebrow at Grant over the top of the frame. “Your organization skills are horrific.”

Grant heaved a theatrical sigh. He was perfectly aware of that—it was only due to Frank’s intervention that the workshop was saved from chaos.

He found the book exactly where Frank said it would be and smiled. “You could have put it back,” Grant told him.

“Then you’d never find it,” Frank snorted.

Grant had to cede the point. He settled in across the table from Frank, stacking the books beside him. He didn’t open the book straightaway, though. He watched Frank frown in concentration down at their notes. Frank’s intuition was always a good place to start.

Their minds worked differently; Frank would follow ideas down paths that Grant would never even consider, and often those paths would lead them towards solutions to particularly sticky problems. They worked well together and they had since practically the beginning. Grant had often despaired of meeting someone as stubborn as he was. He’d had a few apprentices before Frank, but none who had _fit_ so perfectly into Grant’s way of working—into his life, really. When Frank’s apprenticeship had ended, Grant had been beyond relieved when Frank had accepted his offer of an assistant’s position.

He lived in terror that one day Frank would actually leave him and go back to his home village and start his own mage’s workshop, though Frank always rolled his eyes when Grant mentioned it. He seemed content enough working alongside Grant.

He finally opened the book on the top of the stack and flipped to the curses section. Spiro was overly wordy, but his theories were sound. And he made a few interesting references to other texts, some of which were in the pile at Grant’s side. Others of which he made a note to try to procure. That was another thing Frank was very good at.

“I think we may need to visit the library,” Grant murmured.

Frank nodded. “I’ll add that to the list.”

Grant kept scanning down page after page, looking for anything useful. A lot of the work that needed to be done was of the scrying sort; Grant needed Skald Way back here for that. This was an… unusual case. Unusual in many ways.

The skald himself was not their usual sort of client. One so favored by the queen typically would go directly to the Court Mage, the young but talented Mr. Stump. He seemed convinced this curse would ruin him, as if it had taken away his ability to write or play as well. And Grant supposed he could understand Way’s worry, at least where his reputation was concerned. Clearly someone was _attempting_ to ruin him in as malicious a way as possible, short of killing him or inflicting physical pain on him.

It wasn’t the most difficult or threatening curse Grant had ever seen, but Way’s imploring face was as hard to resist as any.

At length, Grant realized that Frank was putting his papers and inks in order. “Done for the evening?” Grant asked him.

Frank shook his head. “Not quite. I’m going to spend some time trying to untangle that charm Ellis sent over last week.”

Grant smiled at him. “Good luck with that. I still say it’s not even a real spell; just something Warren threw together after a good bottle of that dwarven whiskey he favors.”

Frank laughed. “Possibly. But even so, I like sorting out his stupid puzzles.”

“This is why he likes you, you know,” Grant told him.

“He’s got a fucking unique way of showing it,” Frank said, grinning. He walked over to his workbench on the other side of the room, clapping Grant on the shoulder as he passed. “Don’t stay up too late,” Frank said. “We don’t need you acting like the undead when Skald Way returns. Give him a day or two before he’s subjected to that.”

“I try not to gild the truth,” Grant sighed and gave Frank a wink.

Frank just laughed as he settled himself in, fishing Warren’s charm out of a drawer and pulling out his notes. Moments later, he was absorbed in the intricacies of unravelling the spell. Grant smiled. Frank giving something his full attention was a thing he loved to see. Especially when he started to scowl over the tops of his spectacles like a tiny old man.

Grant had to force himself to go back to his own reading. He often had to force himself to work instead of staring at Frank. He was just so intriguing. And capable. He got cranky when he caught Grant staring, like he was expecting to be scolded. Grant laughed softly at himself, tapping a finger against a page in his book. He read through the last paragraph again and jotted down a notation. Soon he’d managed to get lost in his reading again.

Grant arrived first in the kitchen the next morning, and had a kettle boiling on the stovetop by the time Frank found his way downstairs. He made Frank a cup of tea and handed it to him, then made one for himself. They sat at the table across from each other and drank quietly.

It was a normal morning, both of them letting the warm drink do its work. Thunder slunk in after a while, butting at their shins and rumbling her normal good morning. “I suppose you’ll want your breakfast,” Grant murmured, reaching down to scratch between her ears.

“Haven’t seen Lightning since yesterday morning,” Frank said.

“She decided to hole up in my room,” Grant said.

“Skittish old bat,” Frank said, but Grant could hear the affection. Frank liked to tease Grant about his “familiars.” Frank wouldn’t admit it, but he was nearly as fond of them as Grant was.

Grant kept telling Frank he could get a puppy, but he hadn’t yet. He kept countering with a threat to buy goats for the little shed in the back garden. Grant secretly thought that would be fucking fun, but he argued for the sake of it. Grant wasn’t too proud to admit that he wanted Frank to get something. Something that might tie him to this place a little more.

“Pass the milk,” Grant said, nudging Frank with a toe. “Too bad it’s not fresh.”

“I would pay good coin to see you milk a goat,” Frank told him, laughing.

Grant laughed too. “Buy some goats and perhaps you shall. It can’t be that hard. Animals adore me.” Grant reached across the table and tweaked Frank’s chin. Frank laughed and smacked Grant’s hand away.

“I need to make up a room for Skald Way,” Frank said after a minute. “Any preference as to which?”

“We’ve only got two extra,” Grant pointed out. “Give him the one with the terrace, I think he’d like it.”

Frank hummed his agreement. “I’ll get that sorted out, if you make breakfast?”

“Deal,” Grant said and stood to survey their pantry. “Porridge and eggs?” he asked over his shoulder.

“I want soldiers,” Frank said, bumping into him gently on his way out of the room.

“Fine, fine,” Grant said, sighing long-sufferingly.

“You’re the best,” Frank called as he went upstairs.

“Don’t you forget it,” Grant called back, lips twitching.

Lightning appeared while Grant was cooking, twining around his ankles and purring loudly. “You’ll have to get used to Skald Way,” Grant told her. She mewed. “I feel relatively sure he will like you. You are quite likeable when you’re not hiding,” he said soothingly. Lightning rubbed her face against his shin. Grant chuckled softly and returned his attention to breakfast.

Grant cut the toast and attended to the eggs. By the time he was done, Frank was coming back down the stairs, Thunder slinking behind him. Frank grinned when he saw the eggcups. “Looks perfect.”

“Nothing but the best here,” Grant laughed. “Never let it be said that I can’t boil an egg. It’s ready to eat if you’re ready to eat it. If not, I’ll put a spell on to keep it warm and fresh.”

“I’m ready,” Frank said, sliding into his chair and wielding his knife with rather inappropriate glee.

“You’re a strange one,” Grant told him, mock-serious. “Too much time around crackpot mages; it’s ruined you.”

Frank laughed. “Since I’m not an apprentice anymore, pretty sure that means _I_ am a crackpot mage.”

“You are,” Grant said contentedly. “I’m terribly proud.”

“I never had a fucking chance,” Frank sighed.

“It’s true, you’d be a crackpot whatever other profession you might have chosen,” Grant teased and refreshed their tea.

“I’m a pretty good cleaning lady,” Frank said. “That room was horrid. What were you keeping in that wardrobe?”

Grant thought for a moment. “Spare ingredients?”

“Well, they were pretty much toast,” Frank said, nose wrinkled.

“Damn,” Grant murmured.

Frank grimaced at him. “If you wouldn’t hide things from me, you wouldn’t lose them.”

“I wasn’t hiding them,” Grant protested, “I just… misremembered their location.”

Frank let out a noise that was half a sigh and half a laugh. “Try to tell me where you put things, eh?”

“I will,” Grant assured him earnestly. “I’ll write things down. Take a full inventory.”

“We probably should’ve done that ages ago,” Frank said.

“We can work on it while we’re working with the skald,” Grant suggested.

“All right,” Frank said. “I’m going to run down to the market later and pick a few things up, since we’ll be feeding three people for the next while.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” Grant said.

“That’s why you keep me around,” Frank replied.

Grant laughed like he was supposed to, but something about it felt off. There were a hundred fucking reasons why he was terrified that Frank would someday decide to leave. The reasons having to do with the fact that he’d lose his assistant were, if he was honest, all at the bottom. “Get something you like,” he told Frank. “Your especial favorite.”

Frank narrowed his eyes. “This is a bribe to help me forget about the ingredients in the wardrobe, isn’t it?”

“Today, it is for that and every little thing you do for me,” Grant replied.

“You do plenty for me too,” Frank mumbled, shaking his head. He looked a bit pink.

Thunder interrupted the exchange by jumping gracefully up onto the table, meowing in something very much like affront. “Yes, yes. You’ll get your breakfast when you _always_ get your breakfast,” Grant told her. The doorbell sounded. “Oh. Was it that?” Grant asked. “That’s just our houseguest, cat.”

“I’ll clean up in here if you want to go,” Frank offered.

Grant nodded and patted Frank’s cheek as he walked out. Frank bit his lip and smiled up at him. Sometimes, he was genuinely sweet. Grant smiled to himself on the way to the door, directing the tail end of it to Skald Way, who was waiting with a bag and a nervous expression.

“Good morning, Skald,” Grant said, bowing a little. “Please, come in. Frank has prepared a room for you. Are your instruments arriving separately?” He nodded and Grant ushered him inside. “Have you eaten? We just finished breakfast, but I could whip something up for you.”

“Coffee,” Frank said, popping out of the kitchen and handing him a mug. The skald sipped it then beamed when Frank had, clearly, remembered how he took it.

“So,” Grant said, clapping his hands together. “Breakfast? Or would you like me to show you to your room and let you get settled?”

“He’ll get used to yes-or-no questions soon,” Frank interrupted.

Way made a face at Frank, which made Grant laugh. “Well, he’s certainly expressive enough, even without a voice.”

Way indicated his bag and pointed at the doorway leading towards the staircase.

“To your room?” Grant asked. Way nodded. Grant led him upstairs, pointing out the back hall and several useful doors on the way. “Take as long as you need to settle in, then come find us in the workshop,” he said.

Way nodded and mouthed “Thank you.” He was peering around the room curiously, taking in the terrace and the wide windows with a smile on his face.

“Hope it suits,” Grant smiled. Way gave him a smile that Grant knew meant it would suit very well indeed.

He excused himself and went out to the workshop, where Frank was already setting up the scrying equipment. “Brilliant,” Grant murmured and sank into a seat. “He seems pleased with the room and I didn’t smell a whiff of ingredients gone bad, so your air freshening charms are good.”

Frank grinned as he opened the cedar box where they kept the runestones. “If I don’t make it as a mage…” he started.

“But you will,” Grant said. “You’re one of mine.”

Frank’s cheeks went a deep red and he turned his back to Grant, busying himself with the scrying equipment. Grant could feel the foolish smile he was directing at the back of Frank’s head, but he found that he couldn’t care too much. He watched the quiet dart of Frank’s hands instead.

He needed to get his scrying books off the shelf. He would, after a moment.

When the Skald came in, Frank and Grant had the table ready. Frank took over the explanation, carefully showing Way all the different parts of the setup and how they would be used. Way was intent on each of Frank’s words. Grant could tell he was not only listening, but understanding. He had a few questions; as with the day before, he wrote them down in his notebook.

Frank nodded and answered each patiently, looking Way unblinkingly in the eye. Grant was good with people most of the time, but Frank seemed to know just how to make Way feel most comfortable. “Okay,” Frank said, once the explanation was mostly complete. “I’m going to start the first spell. Go ahead and pick up that crystal bowl, Skald.”

Way held up a hand and scribbled something in his notebook, which Frank read and then snorted and repeated, “Please, for the love of all that is good in the world, call me Gerard.”

Grant smiled. “As you wish, Gerard.”

Gerard looked greatly relieved, and he set down his notebook and picked up the bowl as Frank directed. The water inside immediately began to glow a pale blue.

“Breathe on it, just like the stone,” Frank murmured.

Gerard took a deep breath and blew gently on the water. As the water rippled, it changed colors again, this time to green.

“Again,” Frank said softly.

Gerard took another deep breath and blew out again. That time, it turned a pinkish-red color.

“Interesting,” Frank said, glancing at Grant.

“My turn,” Grant said, moving to sit opposite Gerard and touching his temples with two fingers each.

He muttered the spells and looked into the water. Images swirled in his vision. As with most scrying spells, it wasn’t anything terribly specific. A sunny garden, a cobwebby shelf full of books. A kiss. A measure or two of music. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, then looked again. The images swirled. A book, a dark room, a flowering plant. A cold, clear day, and a sea of faces.

Scrying always made him feel like he was drowning. Finally he sighed and sat back. “The traces of the spell are there, but they’re so faint.”

“Can we go deeper?” Frank asked.

Gerard’s lips twitched. Frank made a face at him. _Sorry,_ Gerard mouthed.

Frank laughed. “I don’t think you are. I’m usually the one laughing at that sort of thing anyway. Ask Grant.”

Gerard glanced over at Grant, eyes a little wide. Grant grinned. “It’s true, I’m afraid. He may look sweet, but our Frank is a bit of a scoundrel.”

“But I’m good at my job,” Frank said. “And if scrying isn’t taking us deep enough-” his voice, admirably, stayed steady this time “-we’ll have to try something else.”

“He is excellent at his job,” Grant said. “And yes, we’ll need to employ other methods regardless. There is one more scrying spell I can try that may reveal something different, but I can already tell it won’t be enough.”

“Nyota’s third?” Frank asked. Grant nodded. “I’ll get the salt,” Frank said, getting up.

Grant moved to the part of the room they used for casting circles and started gathering candles. He glanced back at Gerard, who remained seated. He wasn’t still, though. His eyes were darting around him, taking in the room. He’d seen it the day before, but things had been moved around. His hands were moving, worrying the hem of his sleeve, folding in his lap, resting on his knees.

Grant could understand Gerard’s unease with silence just now. Happily, he could do something about that. “Nyota’s third incantation is a bit unusual, for a scrying spell,” he told Gerard. “What makes it unusual, Frank?”

“’M not your apprentice anymore,” Frank grumbled, but he added, “It uses different pathways.”

“It’s a spoken-word, or rather, sung, incantation. I believe in this case it might prove more effective,” Grant explained. He knelt with a piece of chalk and drew the circle. Frank returned and started arranging the rest of the materials. Gerard’s eyes darted between them both. He clearly found the process utterly fascinating.

“The circle directs the spell,” Grant explained. “It gives the words somewhere to go.”

Gerard gestured between them. “Who does the spell?” Frank asked.

“You should,” Grant said to Frank. “You haven’t had that many opportunities to do this one, as I recall.”

Frank nodded. “Okay. Gerard, can you come over here? We both need to kneel in the middle of the circle. Grant will finish the preparations. Then I’ll start the incantation.” Gerard nodded and got on his knees in the circle. Frank knelt opposite him. “I’m going to need to put my hands on your shoulders,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded, mouthing an _okay._ Grant finished his preparations, setting the little bundles of ingredients at three points on the circle’s circumference. Then he sat back and watched Frank.

Frank whispered to Gerard, “Close your eyes.” Gerard closed his eyes and Frank started the incantation. His voice was scratchy and rough at first, but as he kept going, his tone evened out. Grant always forgot how well Frank could sing.

Gerard’s eyes were still closed, but his expression had changed. He looked… sad. Immensely so. Frank’s voice wavered minutely. He saw it too. Grant watched his hands move, cupping Gerard’s skull, thumbs circling just under his ears.

Grant watched Gerard breathe in through his nose and saw his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. Frank kept singing. The circle flared with light, little sparks dancing up into the air as Frank sang the spell to its conclusion.

Neither he nor Gerard moved, so Grant did. “It worked,” he murmured to Frank. “Look at the sigils.”

Frank turned his head and looked at Grant, smiling slightly, gently let go of Gerard and turned to the sigils. He touched each one, eyes closed. “Oh,” he said, after a moment. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Easy, Gerard,” Grant said when Gerard stared without apparent breathing. “Frank?”

Frank’s eyes popped open. “Sorry! Gerard,” he squeezed Gerard’s shoulder, “you can get up. Each spell has a signature,” he continues. “Finding it helps us narrow things down considerably.”

Frank kept one hand on Gerard’s shoulder as he kept working with the other, clearly trying to confirm his initial impressions.

“I think… water? Water, and oak.” Frank looked at Grant, thoughtfully.

“Nothing springs to mind, but I don’t know every mage in the country, you know,” Grant said lightly.

Frank laughed. “No, you do not. Much as you might wish you did. This isn’t much, but it’s more than we had to start.”

“True enough,” Grant agreed. He held out his hand to pull Gerard to his feet. Gerard smiled, looking a little sad. “This is just the beginning,” Grant assured him. “We will do everything we can to set you to rights.”

Frank stood and clapped Gerard on the shoulder. Grant watched Gerard sway into it a little bit and looked at his assistant closely.

“We’ll sort you out,” Frank told Gerard. “Promise. I’ve been with him for four years now and we haven’t failed once.”

Gerard smiled then, nodding.

“Do you need a break?” Grant asked them.

“Tea would he good,” Frank said. Clearly half in consideration of Gerard.

Gerard nodded, but he still looked a little wide-eyed. _Coffee?_ he mouthed.

“Can do.” Grant gestured to Gerard to lead the way, reaching out to touch Frank’s arm as they followed. He didn’t have to ask Frank how he was, because Frank answered without prompting.

“It was a little tiring, but not bad.”

“You did well with the casting,” Grant told him. “Your verbal spellwork has come a long way.”

“Not at your level yet,” Frank replied.

“You’ll get there,” Grant said. “Hell, you’re not far off.”

“Whatever,” Frank scoffed, but Grant could tell he was doing the thing that he did sometimes where he tried to bite back a pleased smile.

Grant made them all cups of coffee and tea and then sent Gerard off to work on one of his own projects while he went back to the workshop with Frank.

Frank and Grant compiled all the information they had thus far. “Maybe it’s not…maybe it’s location? And not about the spell?” Frank suggested.

Grant considered this. “An echo of the book’s location, you mean?”

“His voice belongs with him. What if it’s trying to find him?”

“That is… genius, Frankie,” Grant breaths.

“So if we adjust the spells,” Frank began, already reaching for his notes to scribble some changes.

“Yes,” Grant said, reaching in with his pen and notating alongside Frank, fingers skidding and bumping. Frank smiled up at him.

Not for the first time, Grant wanted to lean in and kiss him. But, as always, he set the desire aside.

“We can move on from scrying to searching, yes? A homing spell?” One of them would have to focus on the more prosaic search, as well.

“We can try,” Grant allowed. “We should endeavor not to get our hopes up. It won’t be easy, whatever the answer. And we should keep looking for the spell itself. Even if we find the book tomorrow, we’ll still need to have the specifics of the curse so we can break it.”

“You’re right,” Frank said. He scrubbed the hand that wasn’t holding the pen through his hair.

“Of course I am,” Grant said easily. “Look, let me go to the library tomorrow. I’ll investigate the books Gerard remembers and see if I can find any traces of the spell there. We have sigils now, thanks to you. Really, well done.”

“You’d have done it without me,” Frank said, but he was beaming.

Grant rolled his eyes. “How on earth did I find an assistant as stubborn as I am? For my sins.”

“Punishment for your sins,” Frank retorted.

Grant laughed and shook his head. “I suppose it’s a punishment I’m willing to take.”

“Lucky me,” Frank grinned back.

Grant swallowed and stood up, turning his back on Frank as he searched the shelves. His hand stopped on a volume and he took a breath before pulling it off the shelf and sitting back down. Frank had turned back to his notes, and was frowning over a section that he’d written in green.

“Oak. The amberite stone that reacted to Gerard yesterday is used in a spell in conjunction with acorns, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Frank exclaimed. “There’s a whole stupid poem in the spell book that I accidentally memorized.”

Grant chuckled. “Why am I unsurprised?”

“Accidentally,” Frank grumbled. He leaned over and shoved a few books off the top of a stack until he had the one he wanted. “Here.”

Grant flipped through and found the spell. And accompanying poem. He laughed. “I suppose I could see how one would accidentally memorize this.”

Frank groaned. “It’s a spell for protection against misfortune, right? Doesn’t seem to have worked for poor Gerard.”

“Perhaps it was reversed purposefully,” Grant pointed out.

“Or maybe the connection is in the spell’s construction,” Frank said, looking thoughtful. “Here, let me see.” He took the book and read through a few paragraphs. “Yes!” he exclaimed. “It moves the essence of the acorn into the same sort of crystal.”

“Gerard’s voice isn’t his essence,” Grant pointed out.

“It sort of is,” Frank argued, and something twisted strangely in Grant’s chest that Frank could know that about a stranger– or that Grant didn’t– or… something. He stopped, and made himself consider the idea properly. “Perhaps… perhaps that’s why the scrying circle showed such a strange response?”

Frank nodded. “That could totally be it. The circle got all confused.”

“Keep thinking about how a mage could capture a voice, and I’ll try the library,” Grant repeated.

“Sounds like a plan,” Frank agreed.

Grant read through the spell several times, thoroughly familiarizing himself with the process of transferring the essence of an acorn to a crystal. A crystal was an entirely different sort of vessel than a book, but perhaps some things stayed the same. He turned to another volume, one he had to retrieve from a locked cabinet, that detailed the creation of cursed objects.

He muttered to himself as he read. This curse was tricky. So tricky. It felt like if they just looked at it from precisely the right angle, everything would fall into place.

There seemed to be a million different angles. Grant tucked the curse book away and picked up his notes, tucking them in an inner pocket and ruffling Frank’s messy hair as he walked by. If he left now, and splashed out for a hire cab, he could spend several hours in the Royal Library before dinner.

He found Gerard sitting in the front room, staring out the window. “Hello,” Grant said. “I hope you like the house and are comfortable here.” Gerard favored him with a small smile and got out his pencil and his notebook.

 _It’s beautiful,_ he wrote. _You and your assistant are not what I expected._

Grant chuckled. “I’ve always had… my own way of doing things. When Frank appeared and bullied his way into being my apprentice, it was clear that he did, too. Fortunately, our methods complement one another.”

 _I’m glad I chose to come to the two of you,_ Gerard wrote.

“You never said how you chose me,” Grant said. “To be honest, I was surprised that someone of your stature wouldn’t seek help from the Court Mage. I’ve worked with him before—he’s very skilled.”

 _But those around him don’t tend to understand the meaning of discretion,_ Gerard wrote. _I read your book on the legend of Eregone,_ he added.

Grant felt a little burst of warmth at that, low in his chest. “And that made you decide to take your chances with the city’s magical outcasts, mm?”

Gerard smiled. _You seemed best suited to the job. For a lot of reasons. You must know you’re brilliant. I need brilliant, not just skilled or competent._

Grant was startled into a laugh. “I… you’re correct,” he said when he was done laughing. “You do, and I am. I am on my way to the Royal Library. I understand you prefer not to be seen there, but if I could– before I go, so I have the sense-memory…” He trailed off and made an abortive gesture towards Gerard’s forehead.

Gerard nodded, moving over a bit to give Grant room to sit beside him. Grant turned, put both thumbs on Gerard’s forehead, and let his fingers splay over his temples.

“Now think about what happened in the library. Concentrate on those moments.”

Scrying memories was nothing like scrying with anything else. Grant had a knack for it, but it was exhausting, if you weren’t prepared. And quite frankly it made people nervous. But it was a tool, and Grant always used the tools he had.

He closed his eyes and murmured the spell, letting Gerard’s impressions wash over him. It only took a moment, but Grant found Gerard’s mind more interesting than most. “Yes, that will help greatly,” Grant murmured and pulled his hands away. Gerard looked a little dazed.

Grant thanked him quietly and took his leave before Gerard could reach for his pencil.

* * *

Gerard watched Grant leave, feeling utterly strange. Most of the spells they’d done so far had left him a little off-balance, but this was the strangest thus far.

He could still feel the phantom brush of Grant’s fingertips on his temples. It had been both soothing and unsettling. Knowing Grant could see to his very core… He rather wished he hadn’t liked it so much.

Grant and Frank were nothing like he’d expected them to be, when he’d decided to search them out. He’d hoped they’d be at least more interesting than the others. He hadn’t expected them to be so kind. Or so clearly attached to each other. The way they’d welcomed him into their home, and been so careful with him….

A small part of Gerard, one that he had been working viciously to push down since he’d awakened in the House of Healing, was desperately afraid that there was no breaking the curse that had been set upon him. People lived with similar issues, of course. They thrived. He’d just… built his entire life around his voice. He couldn’t fathom never being able to speak or sing again.

Damn, he was trying so hard not to be fatalistic, but it was… somewhat against his nature. He shook himself and turned his attention back to his notebook, flipping to a clean page. He wrote until he heard a throat clear behind him.

“When are you expecting your delivery?” Frank asked.

Gerard scribbled, _Soon,_ in his notebook and held it up.

“I’ll help you get everything set up. The back parlor is rarely used, and we can move the furniture around to make more room if you need it.”

Gerard smiled at him and wrote, _That would be lovely._

“We’re a full-service establishment, here,” Frank grinned. “All the comforts of home.”

 _Literally, now,_ Gerard wrote. He could see the wagon pulling into the roundabout in front of the house.

Frank went out to meet the wagon and directed the delivery men toward the back parlor. Gerard tried not to wring his hands. It was probably a good thing he couldn’t speak. It saved the delivery men from his nagging about his instruments. But Frank seemed to understand his concerns, taking care to ensure that the couriers treated each instrument with care. Gerard noticed a guitar tucked away in a corner of the parlor, and a fiddle hanging from a hook- perhaps that explained it.

Frank had a unique and rather likeable singing voice. Gerard was quite interested in hearing if his playing skills matched it. Perhaps it would help him feel better if he could at least write things for Frank to sing. Gerard could play along. He was getting ahead of himself, but he couldn’t help it. His fingers were itching for the strings of his favorite lute.

Gerard paid the delivery men when the last piece was deposited in the parlor, and Frank walked them out as Gerard turned in slow, delighted circles. This felt better already. He reached for his lute and sat down with the case in his lap. He carefully unlatched it and pulled out the instrument. He plucked a string, and it sang sweetly. Gerard had to close his eyes against the rush of emotion.

Frank was watching him with soft eyes when he opened his own. “I saw you play once,” Frank said. “Did I tell you that? It was wonderful.”

Gerard grinned, more pleased at this than was strictly necessary. _When?_ he mouthed.

“Midsummer celebration two years ago,” Frank said. “The Parade suite.”

Gerard beamed and reached for his notebook. _I’m so glad you liked it. I love that one. Now. At the time, it seemed like everyone had something to say about it and it spoiled it for me, a bit. But looking back, I’m fond again._

Frank grinned back. Gerard couldn’t help but notice that his smile was… inspiring. “Fuck, no, it was amazing. Really raw, you know?”

 _Like you,_ Gerard wrote before he could stop himself. _I mean. I’m sorry-_

Frank put a hand over Gerard’s on the pencil. “You’re not wrong. I try to be, really. It makes me better at what I do,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded, because he could see that: magic was an intensely personal craft, and Frank clearly threw himself into it completely. Grant seemed to have a little more distance, but maybe that was just the wisdom of longer experience.

“I can tell you do, too,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded and started writing. _I try to be. It’s weird. Sometimes I need more distance and people think I think I’m too good for them, but mostly I’m just trying to keep everything straight in my head._

“I get that,” Frank said. “Which, speaking of, do you want me to fuck off? I don’t want to, like, get in the way of your creative process. I know you have shit to do.” He looked hopeful to Gerard, though.

 _Would you like to stay?_ he wrote.

“If you really don’t mind,” Frank said. “It’s been a while since I took any time for music. Which is crazy because if I wasn’t doing this, I’d probably be doing something in music.” Gerard nodded towards the guitar and the fiddle. Frank laughed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Yeah, those are my babies. I mostly play for Grant now, when he’s come over poorly and needs to sit quietly. It’s the one thing that will keep him still.”

Gerard smiled. Somehow, that didn’t surprise him at all. _Play something for me,_ he wrote.

“Alright,” Frank said. He walked over to the guitar and picked it up, plucking at the strings to test them. It was perfectly in tune, which Gerard knew meant that Frank took the time to care for the instrument: no one had yet invented a tuning spell that didn’t interfere with an instrument’s tone.

He sat down on a stool, closed his eyes, and started to play. He was very good indeed. He didn’t play like anyone else Gerard had ever heard, and he’d heard a lot of musicians play. Perhaps Frank wasn’t the most technically skilled, but– Gerard found himself breathless, fascinated by the movement of Frank’s fingers on the strings.

“Have I convinced you to let me touch your instruments yet?” Frank said wryly when he was done.

Gerard coughed delicately and Frank’s cheeks went pink. Gerard grinned and picked up his lute again. He gestured towards Frank’s guitar, then started playing a simple folk song. A moment later, Frank joined in, the guitar weaving in and out of the melody. Gerard felt like he could breathe for the first time in days.

They played well together. Frank’s style complemented Gerard’s in unexpected ways. More than once, Gerard found himself laughing, exhilarated. And for the first time since this damnable curse began, the fact that his laughter made no sound didn’t weigh on him.

Frank grinned at him when they finally stopped playing. “Good to see you smile,” he said.

Gerard could only smile wider, and nod his thanks.

“Thank _you_ ,” Frank said. “That was fucking fun. I forget how much I like to play music with other people.”

 _I think we ought to do it every day,_ Gerard wrote.

“I’d like that,” Frank said. “I bet Grant would too.” Gerard nodded enthusiastically. He felt more like himself than he had in days. “I’m going to leave you to it, Gerard. If you get bored, you know where to find me.” He winked and slipped out of the room. Gerard spent a few moments just grinning. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He spent the next few hours just fucking around, trying to get himself back in the right mindset to work on his composition. His harpsichord sounded particularly good in this new room. He had to cast about for paper, finding some where Frank had clearly written some of his own notes. They were mostly incomprehensible to Gerard, but interesting to read nonetheless.

A pointed “mew” brought him out of his thoughts. Gerard looked up sharply and came face to face with a small grey cat standing on the back of the sofa, fixing him with a disdainful look.

Gerard had never been much of a cat person, and surely Grant or Frank would have mentioned if there was anything… supernatural about their pets. But Gerard was superstitious enough to not want to risk offending any member of this particular household. He extended a hand in introduction.

The cat considered him for a long moment, then slowly prowled forward and sniffed at his hand before butting against it twice. Then the cat turned on its tail and wandered over to curl up in an armchair across the room. Gerard had no idea if he’d passed inspection or not, but he looked back to his notes anyway.

He didn’t realize how late it was getting until someone knocked on the parlor door. “Enjoying your reunion?” Grant asked with a smile, gesturing at the instruments.

Gerard beamed and nodded. _Frank and I played together earlier and that was even better,_ he wrote.

Grant’s smile went soft around the edges. “I wish I’d heard it.” He nodded towards the armchair that the cat had claimed. “And I see you met Thunder. I hope she didn’t give you any trouble.”

Gerard shook his head. Grant walked over and skritched the cat behind her ears before turning back to Gerard. “No joy on finding your mystery book at the Royal Library,” he said, face smoothing into seriousness.

Gerard shrugged. _I didn’t really think you would. Did you find anything else useful?_

“I talked to a few of the attendants, tried to suss out if any suspicious characters had been hanging around on the day you were cursed. It’s such a large library, with so much usage… I did manage to charm the desk attendant out of a copy of the register for the last week or so. And I procured a few books on curses that may be of use.”

Rather than writing out his response, Gerard strummed a major chord.

Grant laughed. “For someone temporarily without his voice, you’re very good at getting your meaning across.”

Gerard smiled. He liked Grant a lot. Loved his sense of humor. It made this all a bit less scary.

 _My brother and I used to make up our own languages and sign language when we were small. Perhaps I am using those skills,_ Gerard wrote.

“Perhaps,” Grant said. “Perhaps that’s what makes you such a talented bard.”

Gerard made a face. The compliment was welcome, but he had worked hard to get what he had, too.

“Which is not to imply it’s the only reason you’re a talented bard,” Grant added. “But you seem to read people very well and know what they will respond to.” Gerard could feel himself blush at that. “I’m going to be buried in books for a bit, I suspect, but I hope we can all have supper first?”

Gerard nodded. He set his lute to one side and stood.

“I’ll go fetch Frank,” Grant said and disappeared toward the workshop.

Gerard wavered for a moment before heading to the kitchen. He was paying Grant and Frank, of course. But perhaps he could do something else to show his appreciation. He wasn’t the world’s best cook, but there were a few dishes he could manage.

He could hear them bickering in the passageway before he saw them. He was already chopping vegetables by then.

“Oh!” Frank said when he saw Gerard. “You don’t need to do that.” Gerard shrugged and smiled and kept chopping.

“What can we help with?” Grant asked, pushing his sleeves up.

Frank scanned the ingredients on the chopping block. “Start some water boiling,” he instructed Grant. “And set the table.” Gerard’s lips twitched at the calmly bossy tone. He bit his lip and kept chopping.

Frank opened the cupboards and got out salt and several other seasonings. “I was just guessing, but… Soup?” Frank asked.

Gerard nodded. Frank smiled at him and started adding Gerard’s and his own ingredients to the pot. Frank read him really well. It was welcome and surprising all at once. Between the two of them, they had the soup simmering away in short order. Frank fetched a loaf of crusty bread from the pantry and started slicing it.

Gerard was suddenly starving. He watched Frank avidly, until Frank slid a small slice over to him. “Here, you vulture. You’re as bad as himself.”

Gerard beamed at him and took a large bite. Frank laughed. Grant made an offended noise, coming back into the kitchen.

“No respect,” he sighed.

“You’d hate it if I respected you,” Frank says.

“Hate is the wrong word,” Grant protests. “But you’re right that I likely wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

Gerard would have snorted if he could have. Frank grinned at him. “He would. He likes to be challenged and argued with.”

“I never did well with traditional apprentices,” Grant says ruefully.

“You never do well with traditional anything,” Frank told him.

Grant smiled ruefully. “True enough. I prefer to make my own way, not rely on the traditions of others.”

Gerard nodded, because that was clear to anyone who had read any of Grant’s work. Gerard had read most of it. He’d always meant, someday, to approach Grant about a collaboration. This was not his idea of one. Maybe after, Gerard thought. If things didn’t go all to hell in the meantime.

Once the soup was finished, they moved to the little table to eat. It was a little difficult to carry on dinner conversation while constantly reaching for his notebook. Grant and Frank took pity on him after a while and started telling stories.

Their stories were an odd mix of hilarious and touching. It was clear that the two of them were very dear to one another. Gerard wondered what they were like doing spells together, instead of trading off. He hoped to see it eventually.

He wondered if they’d have any other clients while he was there. Not that he was hoping he’d be here long. Their good humor about everything made it impossible to imagine he would be. He took a bite of his bread, washed it down with some tea, and listened.

Once dinner had been cleared away, Gerard excused himself to his room. Constantly scribbling in a notebook was making him want to start writing. Gerard had never kept a diary as such, but being forced to keep so many thoughts in, merely through the difficulty of writing them, was making him _more_ determined to do so.

So he wrote. He wrote everything. By the time he was done, he felt like he could breathe easily since the first time since the curse happened. It was late enough that he found it easy to fall into bed afterwards. Maybe, he thought drowsily, tomorrow would be the day.

* * *

Frank woke up early the next day. He wanted to go back to sleep. Instead, he got up and went down to see about a good breakfast. The house was quiet. Grant usually rose later than Frank did; he didn’t know Gerard’s habits yet, but he set a pot of water boiling for coffee. He’d start something cooking and then use the early quiet to write in his journal.

He decided on making biscuits and set about putting together the dough, kneading it, and forming the biscuits. The coffee finished brewing just as he was wiping the flour off his hands. He poured a cup immediately and inhaled.

He poured another to savor as he wrote in his journal. Some minutes later, he heard a shuffling at the kitchen door. Gerard appeared, looking rumpled and still sleepy.

“Coffee?” Frank asked.

Gerard nodded, but put a hand on Frank’s shoulder to keep him from getting up. He fixed himself coffee and sat down across from Frank. He seemed content to just drink, so Frank kept writing.

After a few minutes, Gerard got up again to fix himself another cup. He tapped Frank’s cup as he walked past, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Thank you, dear,” Frank murmured, hanging it over with barely a glance away from his book.

Gerard squeezed his shoulder and made them both coffee. Frank realized what he’d said as Gerard sat back down. He glanced up, but Gerard was smiling down into his mug, eyes closed. Frank supposed that meant he didn’t mind. He took a breath and kept writing until the bell indicating his biscuits were done sounded.

Gerard perked up at the sound. He was watching the tray like a hawk, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Well, then.

Frank chuckled. “I was going to fix gravy to go with them, but perhaps you’d like one with butter and jam?”

Gerard smiled at him, eyes crinkling around the edges.

“Yes, all right.” Frank fixed it up and leaned over to sit it in front of Gerard.

Gerard wrapped his fingers around Frank’s wrist, grinned up at him, and mouthed _Thank you._

“You’re welcome,” Frank said. Gerard still hadn’t let go, and Frank didn’t want to yank his hand away. After a moment, Gerard squeezed and let go. Frank smiled. “I’ll start full breakfast now. Grant will appear soon.”

Gerard nodded, returning to his coffee. Frank watched him for a moment before going back to the stove. He started the gravy. He couldn’t help but hum as he whisked.

A few minutes later, he became aware that Gerard was tapping out a simple rhythm on the tabletop. “You like that, do you?” Frank smiled. “Try this.” He started whistling instead, louder and more complex.

Gerard followed him, tapping along on the table, and then on Frank’s journal with the other hand to produce a different noise. Frank laughed, and wove the sound of the whisk against the side of the saucepan into the rhythm.

When Grant came into the room, he did a fancy little turn before heading for the coffee. “Didn’t think my house was big enough for a ballroom,” he laughed.

Frank smiled. “Makeshift bands and makeshift ballrooms can crop up anywhere.”

Grant sat down across the table from Gerard. “Did you sleep well?” he asks. “I hope the room is comfortable enough.”

Gerard nodded enthusiastically. Frank leaned in to read what he was writing.

 _Stayed up too late,_ he scrawled. _But I feel fine. Good coffee._ He looked at Frank with that last part.

“One of his many skills is excellent coffee,” Grant said with a grin. Gerard nodded solemnly and wrote something else. “Good coffee is magic,” Grant read aloud. He laughed. “You’re not wrong. It’s one spell I can never get him to share with me, though.”

“Job security,” Frank said flippantly.

“I could never fire you,” Grant said. “It’d be impossible. But your coffee is a definite perk.”

Gerard started giggling silently. Frank grinned and turned back to the stove. He pulled out a second pan and asked, “Eggs?”

“We’re both nodding,” Grant told him.

Frank laughed. “Thank you.” He cracked a few eggs into a bowl and started whisking them.

It was quiet in the kitchen for the next few minutes, all of them occupied by their own thoughts. Frank admitted most of his were about the food he was cooking. That was okay, though. This was comfortable. Much more comfortable than he expected it to be when Grant suggested Gerard come stay with them.

Soon enough, he was putting the finishing touches on the gravy and eggs. He took a stack of plates from the cupboard beside the stove and set them out. Grant had a suspicious smear of jam at the corner of his mouth. Frank raised an eyebrow at him.

“He let me steal half his biscuit!” Grant said. “Because he’s a kind and generous soul.”

Gerard was burying a grin in his coffee mug, but his shoulders were shaking.

“I doubt there’s much let about it, you dirty charmer,” Frank said.

“I am angelic. And persuasive,” Grant returned and delicately wiped the jam from his mouth.

Frank rolled his eyes heavenward, dishing up the first plate and setting it in front of Gerard. “For our guest. And for the dirty thief,” he said, giving the second to Grant.

Grant beamed and said took his food happily. Frank finally sat back down with a plate of food for himself. It didn’t matter that Gerard couldn’t comment on the food; his expression as he took his first bite of the biscuit with gravy was reaction enough.

Frank bit back a smile. He already knew how Grant felt about this meal, but his praise was still gratifying when he offered it.

Grant insisted on cleaning up after breakfast, and he sent Gerard and Frank back to the workshop. Frank got Gerard settled at one of the worktables and started preparing for what they’d need to do today. They were doing more tests on the curse, seeing if any of their initial tests missed anything. Frank also had a few ideas about adjusting their spells to look for Gerard’s voice itself, rather than the curse that had taken it. He’d need Grant’s help with that, but he would start without him.

He told Gerard everything he was doing and why. For the most part, Gerard nodded his understanding. By the time Grant joined them, Frank was ready to let him take over.

“I set up for Tunster’s and Fadden’s,” Frank told him.

“Excellent,” Grant said, coming over to stand beside them. He examined the setup and said, “Perfectly done, Frank.”

“I want to try Lethstone’s location spell afterwards,” Frank said.

Grant nodded. “Yes, that could have some very interesting results.” Gerard was looking back and forth between them, smiling. “It’s nice to have such a cheerful spell subject,” Grant said, patting him on the shoulder. “Did Frank explain Tunster to you?”

Gerard nodded. “So you’re prepared for it to feel really weird?” Gerard made a face, but he nodded. “We’ll need you to get your kit off, then,” Grant told him.

Gerard wrinkled his nose, but stood and began working at the buttons on his coat. Frank turned and busied himself with the bowls of ink. He was rather concerned that there was about to be a lot of staring. He couldn’t help noticing how lovely Gerard was. Pale, well made. Once he’d set aside his undershirt he looked nervous, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Frank had already stoked the fire in the woodstove, so it wasn’t cold. After a few moments, Gerard’s shoulders squared and his bashfulness fell away. Grant took the paintbrush. He, of course, was as collected as ever as he began daubing the sigils onto Gerard’s shoulders and chest. Frank loved watching the process of this spell. He hadn’t done it himself before, but he thought maybe he could next time.

Grant took the most care on the sigil at the hollow of Gerard’s throat and Gerard’s eyes never strayed from Grant’s face. Frank saw him shiver at the last flourish of the brush. Just a bit. Frank was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was cold.

“There,” Grant murmured. He laid a hand on Gerard’s side just above his belt and guided him closer to the stove.

Gerard favored him with a small smile.

“Arms out please,” Grant said and motioned for Frank to stand beside him so they could cast together.

Gerard’s eyes went wide as the magic started licking over his skin. Frank handed Grant the herbs and crystals at the required intervals, watching the inked lines crawl. This was one of his favorite spells. He wished his tattoos could move like that. When they said the last words of the incantation, the black lines glowed bright and vanished.

Gerard gasped.

Only one sigil was left, gleaming on his shoulder like the ink was still wet. Frank reached out to touch his fingers to the spot. It was completely dry. Gerard’s eyes followed Frank’s fingers and he stared at the mark.

“What does it mean?” Frank asked. “I’m not even sure.”

“Interesting,” Grant murmured. He picked up the book with the sigil interpretations and flipped through it. “A mountain,” he said.

“This is one of the few spells we can take literally,” Frank added. “Some component of your curse has to do with a mountain. Either an ingredient, or _something_.”

Gerard touched his own finger to the rune, tentatively. “It won’t come off without some scrubbing, I’m afraid,” Grant told him. Gerard shrugged. The look on his face made Frank think he probably liked it and didn’t mind.

Frank recorded the results of the spell on a sheet of parchment while Gerard put his shirt back on. “Fadden next,” he murmured half to himself.

“Yes,” Grant said. “I see you already got out the herbs.”

“No potions,” Frank promised Gerard, who gave Frank a thumbs-up. Frank had already blended the herbs into the mixture for burning. He carried the brazier over to a little table and tugged Gerard into a seat next to it. “This spell will show if any of these herbs were used in the curse,” Frank explained.

Gerard nodded, and placed his hand above the brazier like Frank had shown him earlier. Frank murmured the spell, two fingers pressing against the back of Gerard’s hand.

All but one of the herbs burned away in a flash. The one remaining was an unassuming bunch of thyme.

“Thyme for smoke,” Grant said, frowning at the dish with his arms crossed. “Mountain, smoke…”

Frank sighed heavily. “That means dwarves. I just know it.”

“Gerard is going to think you bear a prejudice against a fine people,” Grant teased.

Frank looked at Gerard, who had an eyebrow raised. “Our dwarf contact is a jerk. Likes to pretend not to notice me because I’m too short to be a human.”

Gerard’s lips twitched upwards. _You seem exactly right to me,_ Gerard scribbled into his book, then shut it almost fast enough to catch Frank’s fingertips.

Frank couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Gerard’s cheeks were pink. Frank glanced at Grant, but he had his back turned. Frank couldn’t tell if he’d seen it.

Frank nudged Gerard’s fingers with his own. “So anyway, dealing with the dwarves is annoying because we have to deal with him.”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” Grant insisted.

“You would say that,” Frank replied. “You’re apparently a fucking _fine specimen_ of a human.” A moment later, his words caught up with him. This time it was his cheeks that were pink.

Grant snorted. “It is quite apparent, isn’t it.”

“Your ego never needs any help, does it?” Frank huffed.

Grant grinned and gave Frank a pat on the cheek. “There there, love. It’s not easy, bearing the burden of such perfection.”

“I bear a lot of burdens,” Frank grumbled.

Grant laughed merrily and set about cleaning up the ash of the burnt herbs. Once that was done, Frank set Gerard up in the corner chair with his notebook while he and Grant set to work modifying the scrying spell.

“No,” Frank snapped at Grant after a while of working silently. “You can’t use the obsidian for that, it would shatter immediately.”

Grant startled a bit and looked up at Frank, then back down at the materials in front of him. “You’re right, of course.”

Frank _was_ right, but he still felt a bit embarrassed for having let his temper go like that. Especially at Grant, who was sickeningly even-tempered. “Sorry,” he murmured.

Grant smiled and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Shattered obsidian would be dangerous _and_ ruin the spell. No need to apologize.”

Eventually, they had worked out all the necessary alterations. Frank set up the scrying circle on the table while Grant went to fetch Gerard. Apparently he’d wandered off to get more coffee, because when he came back in the room, he had a mug clutched in his hand.

“We’ve adjusted one of the scrying spells from yesterday to look for traces of your voice itself, rather than the curse that took it,” Grant explained. “We’ll need you to sit at the table with us. Frank has the ingredients ready, if you -”

Gerard nodded and gulped his coffee, then sat down. Frank finished tossing herbs in the silver basin in front of him and offered a hand. Gerard took it and Frank squeezed. On Gerard’s other side, Grant reached for his other hand.

“Would you do the honors, Frank?” asked Grant.

Frank nodded and offered Grant his free hand to complete the circle. Grant’s fingers tightened around Frank’s as Frank started the incantation. Frank liked this one; he liked the cadence of the spell, the rhythm of the words.

As his breath rippled the surface of the liquid in the bowl, he held tight to Gerard and Grant’s hands, feeling warmth grow between their palms. He kept chanting the words of the spell until the heat grew nearly to the point of being unbearable, and then started migrating up their arms toward their destination of Gerard’s throat.

Gerard squeezed Frank’s hand very tightly. Frank wanted to tell him everything was all right, but he couldn’t. He kept chanting. He could feel their power moving closer and closer, up Gerard’s arms. Gerard’s eyes closed, and he inhaled sharply.

Frank forced himself to look away and back at the basin. The image of a tree formed beneath the water. Frank knew it was a large tree. Very large. He continued chanting, coming towards the end of the spell. He felt a sizzle from Grant’s fingers, a little surge of power as Grant pushed for clarity. It was…south. That’s all Frank was getting. A big tree somewhere south. Maybe Grant was getting more. He spoke the last words, and Gerard gasped as the spell’s magic flared one final time and then subsided. He shook his hands free as soon as Frank and Grant loosened their grip and touched his throat carefully.

Both Frank and Grant reached out to squeeze his shoulders. He made faces at them and reached for his notebook. _That felt really, really weird._

Frank grimaced. “Sorry. Hopefully, something useful came out of it.” He looked hopefully at Grant, who was tapping gently at the side of the basin.

“A tree. An immense tree. To the south. And…the scent of jasmine,” he said.

Gerard’s eyes widened. Frank looked at him curiously. “Sound familiar?”

_It sounds like Bowbridge Conservatory. Where I studied music._

“Interesting. Very interesting indeed,” Grant said.

“It could just be an echo because of your connection to that place,” Frank said, slowly, thinking over the information they had so far. “But… it was a pretty strong vision.”

“Do you keep in touch with any instructors or students there?” Grant asked.

 _A few,_ Gerard wrote. _I enjoyed my time there. I went back a few years ago to give a guest lecture._

“Might be worth investigating,” Grant said thoughtfully.

“I’ll go,” Frank said quickly. He was intensely curious.

Grant made a face. “I don’t like the thought of you going alone.”

“Well, if Gerard wants to keep the curse a secret, he probably shouldn’t go,” Frank pointed out. “Not to mention the fact that if the person who did curse him is there, it could be dangerous. And you have no concept of stealth.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Grant said.

Frank laughed. “Yes you do. You’re too flashy. It’s part of your charm. I, on the other hand, can sneak in, no problem.”

Gerard snapped his fingers. _I can get you in,_ he wrote. _I’ll write to one of my friends– someone I trust. They’ll help._

“Good,” Frank said, not meeting Grant’s eye.

Grant sighed. “I suppose I can’t really argue.”

Frank patted him on the shoulder. “I’ll be the fucking soul of discretion.”

Now _this_ was excitement. A secret mission. He couldn’t help but grin. He loved being able to do this stuff, even if it did make Grant nervous.

 _Give me a day or two to set it up,_ Gerard scribbled.

“Sure,” Frank said. Grant was still looking at him with an unreadable expression. Frank didn’t know what to say. He knew Grant worried, but there wasn’t really anything Frank could so about it. He’d just have to make sure there was no reason for Grant to worry more. “I need a break,” he told the others and escaped into the kitchen.

He set the kettle going for tea and opened the window to let in some fresh air. Neither Grant nor Gerard followed him. But ten minutes later, Frank heard the high, clear song of a mandolin coming from the back of the house. He wanted to go to the parlor and listen.

He waited to finish fixing his tea before he quietly went back toward the parlor, and found Grant in the hall. Grant was leaning against the wall near the parlor doors, clearly listening. Frank smiled at him and leaned against the opposite wall. Grant reached out and stole Frank’s tea.

Frank made a face, but he didn’t want to say anything and risk interrupting the music. Grant took a sip, then tucked the mug back in Frank’s hand, reaching out and patting his cheek.

Frank smiled again and something in his stomach turned over. Whatever song Gerard was playing was slow and sweet. Frank looked down at his boot toes instead. The song was making him want to reach out and hold Grant’s hand. But that was a stupid fucking idea, on more levels than Frank could count. And Frank tried really hard not to give in to his stupid ideas. He’d done that a lot when he was younger and it rarely led to anything positive. His mom was proud of him and shit now. His work with Grant was the best thing he’d ever done. He wasn’t going to do anything that could screw that up.

Besides, Grant was…Grant, which was to say, infuriating. Frank adored him, but he wasn’t sure he could actually be _with_ him. Better to keep things the way that they were. Maybe it wasn’t better at all, but Frank could certainly convince himself it was.

The playing stopped and there was a loud tapping on a piece of furniture. Frank poked his head in and Gerard rolled his eyes and gestured him in. Frank laughed and tugged Grant in with him.

* * *

That evening, Grant called up a fire in the little-used back parlor fireplace, and the three of them settled in around the room. Grant had a few books that he wanted to mine for information; Frank had a notebook that he’d been frowning at for most of the afternoon; Gerard had a history. He was, Grant noted with some amusement, reading about dwarves. He seemed utterly absorbed, which was no surprise, given that dwarven culture was so fascinating. Also, their dealings with the kingdom of Zenit might be relevant to Gerard’s current projects.

Frank was equally absorbed. He had tugged a small side table up beside his armchair, and arranged his pens and colored inks in easy reach. Grant couldn’t really be surprised that the one thing that called Gerard out of his absorption was Frank and his notebook. He watched Frank scratch away in his notebook for several minutes until he noticed Grant watching him. Gerard’s cheeks colored, and he turned his eyes back to his own book.

Grant bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t say anything. Gerard’s blush was rapidly becoming as endearing as Frank’s.

Grant turned his attention back to the book in front of him, but he occasionally glanced back up to see Gerard peering at him from beneath his lashes. He still didn’t say anything. And Gerard couldn’t. So they just traded glances in an unending alternation.

Frank seemed oblivious to it all, but he was, as pointed out earlier, much better at stealth than Grant. Eventually, Grant became truly engrossed in the text he was studying. Gerard’s case was the most pressing, but Grant couldn’t help following tangents as he read.

Sometimes he was amazed at all there was left for him to learn in the world. Grant had never made it at any of the more traditional mage’s colleges—he’d been too much of a loose cannon in his younger days. He’d learned most of what he needed on the job. It had served him well, all told. And he hadn’t learned many of the biases that those educated more traditionally developed through their schooling.

As a result, he’d developed a bit of a reputation for the unconventional. He didn’t mind. He liked it that way. It brought him interesting clients who were looking for solutions to problems that the more staid schools of magic couldn’t touch. And it had also brought him Frank, who’d dropped out of a mage’s college on the coast after two months.

Frank had a bit of a…problem with authority. Frank also had a problem with traditional, structured ways of studying. Grant always thought it was a horrible shame that clearly no one had seen his potential at the college. Because he was bright and capable and loved to study on his own terms.

Grant had been reluctant to take on an apprentice, but Frank had been ridiculously persistent. Grant had certainly recognized a kindred stubborn spirit in him. The thing that convinced him, ultimately, had been the day Frank figured out that Grant preferred coffee to tea most of the time. Frank would visit weekly, intent on convincing Grant to take him as an apprentice. And he always brought a thermos of tea, good tea, from a shop in town. Grant’s will started wearing away when Frank finally brought coffee for the first time.

Frank had fit like he’d always been a part of Grant’s life.

When Grant realized how far his mind had wandered, he sat up in his chair, closed, his book, and coughed. “Bed for me, perhaps.”

Gerard smiled at him and gave a little wave. Frank looked up and smiled too, then reached his arms up in a stretch. “Maybe I should too. Those spells we did earlier really took it out of me.”

“Yes, you’re not young like you used to be,” Grant teased. He glanced at Gerard, who was laughing soundlessly.

Frank sent a rude gesture his way and stood. “Need anything, Gerard?”

Gerard shook his head, raising his book in a gesture that Grant took to mean he planned to read a while longer.

“Well, goodnight.” Grant smiled and headed for the stairs, Frank trailing behind. When they got onto the landing, Grant turned. “It’s working rather well, having him here. We’ve never had such luck.”

To be fair, it was rare for them to have a client stay with them for the duration of a job, but it had happened a few times. Most of those times had been uneventful; one or two had been… unfortunate. It was working well, but Grant wasn’t completely calm this time either. It was different. Gerard was different. Gerard was…

Many things. He was smart, and incredibly expressive even without the use of his voice. He was lovely. But he was, first and foremost, a _client_. Grant had needed to remind himself of this fact quite a bit.

He had the doubtlessly idiotic urge to remind Frank of it as well. Doubtless, Frank didn’t need a reminder. He was always willing to bend and break the rules, but there were a few he was mindful of.

Frank clapped him on the arm as they reached his bedroom door. “Goodnight, Grant.”

“Sleep well, love,” Grant told him.

Frank favored him with one of his loveliest smiles and disappeared into his room. Grant caught himself lingering for a few moments, staring at Frank’s closed door. He forced himself to keep walking down the hall to his own bedroom.

He tossed a pinch of herbs in a brazier on his dressing table as he stripped off the day’s clothing. He’d been tired earlier, but he knew he would need their assistance in falling asleep. Grant tugged on a nightshirt and crawled into bed. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. He took another, making sure to breathe in the herbs. He did his best to set aside thoughts of Skald Way, the curse, Frank… Everything. Sleep teased around the edges of his lungs until it came suddenly and finally.

When he woke the next morning, he felt mostly well-rested. And when he walked into the kitchen, Frank and Gerard were already seated at the table. Frank grinned at him and motioned to a mug set beside the coffee pot.

“All yours. Figured you’d be showing up soon.”

“Yes, indeed,” Grant murmured. He noted a letter sitting on the table. “This is for the conservatory, I assume.”

Gerard nodded. “It has his personal seal on it, so I’ll be trusted,” Frank said.

Gerard grinned and flourished his hands. Grant laughed, settling down across the table from them. “You’re quite the important young man, I know,” he teased.

Gerard smirked as if to say, “Yes, I am.”

“Breakfast?” Grant asked.

“Yes, go right ahead and make some,” Frank quipped.

Grant laughed. “Give me a minute to drink more coffee.” Gerard grinned into his own coffee cup. “You’re in a good mood this morning,” Grant told him.

Gerard shrugged. _Got lots of sleep? I’m just happy._

They were clearly having some effect on him if he was smiling like that. Grant liked that he was clearly enjoying himself with them. He’d seemed so defeated when he’d first come to them. But this morning he just looked relaxed. His hair was tousled, and his lips were quirked in a smile.

Grant should probably not be ogling their very important guest. He drained his coffee and got up to make them all breakfast. Grant poked around the cupboards and the pantry and found the makings for a decent scramble.

Frank sat and watched him over his coffee cup with a smug smile on his face. Grant made a sour face at him and turned the contents of his pan.

“He tried to pretend he couldn’t cook for a long time,” Frank confided to Gerard. “Ate all his hot meals down at the pub in the village. Such a spectacle,” Frank laughed.

“I made a lot of friends that way!” Grant exclaimed, gesturing with his wooden spoon.

“And then he made me soup when I was sick once,” Frank continued.

“You were very pathetic. Wearing twice as many sweaters as usual,” Grant said.

Gerard whooshed out a breath through his nose and scratched out, _That’s a lot of sweaters._ Frank squawked indignantly.

“How could I resist that?” Grant said, ruffling his hair while depositing a plate in front of him.

“I’m irresistible,” Frank said smugly.

Gerard had an odd look on his face for a moment, but it passed quickly. Grant gave him the next plate, without the hair ruffle. Gerard grinned up at him and mouthed “thank you” to him.

Grant settled in with his own plate. It was certainly edible, perhaps not up to Frank’s standard. The other two seemed perfectly happy to eat, so Grant decided it was a success.

After breakfast, Frank asked if they needed anything from town. “I’m going to take the letter to the courier.” Frank looked at Grant.

“Check with Jill? We’ve used quite a few herbs the last few days. Might restock if we can,” he suggested.

Frank nodded. “Gerard? Need anything?” Gerard shook his head. “Right. Off I go. Maybe I’ll come back with something special for dinner,” Frank said and slipped out the door.

Grant said, “I think I’ll brew another pot of coffee, and then head to the workshop. Would you care to join me?”

Gerard nodded. _If I can bring my lute?_

“Of course,” Grant replied with a smile. “I would love that.”

Gerard smiled back for a moment, before he seemed to catch himself and looked back down at his notebook. He tapped his fingers against the page for a moment.

Grant smiled and turned to clear the table and clean up from breakfast. He thought about what he needed do that day. He had a few standing orders he needed to fill before returning to research on Gerard’s curse. He set the coffee going again, casting a glance back at Gerard and grinning when he saw Gerard looking excitedly at the stove.

“Quite keen for coffee, eh?” Grant teased.

Gerard scratched out a word in his notebook and held it up. Grant laughed when he saw _always_ underlined with thick strokes of his pencil.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Grant promised. He would, too. It was hard to forget anything about Skald Way.

When he finally dried his hands, Gerard smiled and stood to follow him back to the workshop. Grant picked up the coffee pot, muttering a warming charm as he went. He’d have to refresh it later, if the coffee lasted that long, but it would help.

They settled into the workshop. Grant started sorting the herbs he would need and Gerard started plucking the strings of his lute. At first he was just tuning, but he quickly launched into a simple melody that Grant vaguely recognized. It was so lively it made for quick work on his part.

He could get used to working like this, he thought.

Gerard gradually increased the complexity of the song. It sounded like how Gerard had looked this morning; happy. Gerard himself looked calm, just a faint hint of a smile. Grant smiled to himself and focused back on grinding the herbs in his mortar and pestle.

He let himself be absorbed in the motions of the spellwork, preparing basic charms for a few people in town. “I wish I could afford you,” he said after a while. “This is lovely.”

Gerard smiled and set his lute aside to write, then passed the notebook to Grant. _My friends get special privileges._ Something in Grant’s chest glowed warm at the thought that Gerard considered them friends after so short a time. Gerard reached over and scrawled something else. _Too forward?_

“Of course not,” Grant replied with a grin.

Gerard grinned. _You have the right opinions about Millar's philosophy texts,_ he wrote.

“Of course I do. I practically wrote them,” Grant protested. “Millar just has a patron.” He couldn’t help making the last sound like a dirty word.

Gerard bit his lip. _You could too. I assume his descent further into nonsense and absurdity is the lack of your influence? Am I reading that right?_

Grant recognized that he was being baited, but he still snorted disdainfully. “He has his adherents.” Gerard raised an eyebrow at him. “All right, I think they’re pathetic and deluded, but not nearly as bad as he is.” Gerard’s lips quirked in a grin. Grant waved the pestle at him. “If you’ve _read_ his philosophies, you know I’m right.”

Gerard managed to make a really rude noise come out of his lute.

Grant laughed. “You’ve made your point. He’s a thief and a cad and it pains me that he resides so close and that I could bump into him on the road at any time. I hope if that happens I’ll be on horseback at top speed.”

That got a soundless laugh out of Gerard. _I’ve read your poetics. You’re not subtle._

“Hence the reason I will remain here with you instead of Frank.”

Gerard smiled and played a rather sarcastic measure of music.

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Grant added, and Gerard waved a hand airily, as if to say, “Whatever.” He was grinning, though.

He went back to picking through a lilting melody and Grant turned back to his charms. He had a few more left to do before he could move on to other things.

When he’d finally finished preparing the herbs, he glanced over at Gerard again. Gerard had paused in his playing, and was frowning at his notebook, tapping his pencil against his lips before scratching out a line of writing and scribbling something else. Then he turned back to his lute and plucked out a series of notes, before looking back at the notebook, frowning again, and making another change.

Grant felt as if he could watch this for a while. He let himself. At least for the moment. He wondered where lyrics came in Gerard’s creative process. He hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he’d get the chance to find out. Certainly, for Gerard’s own comfort, they needed to lift the curse soon.

He was certain, given enough time, that he and Frank could do it. Unfortunately, they had limited amounts of time. The Centennial celebrations were less than two months away, and Grant was certain that Gerard needed to regain his voice much sooner than that.

“Is there someone waiting for you to come back to the palace?” Grant asked curiously.

 _My brother spread around that I was going to the country for inspiration and to work without distraction,_ Gerard wrote. _No one expects me for quite a while._ He bit his lip, and wrote, _The rehearsals for the centennial start two weeks before the celebration. I will be expected at the palace then._

Six weeks, then. Not the worst timetable they’d ever had.

 _Is that enough time?_ Gerard scrawled in his notebook.

“We’ll make sure it is,” Grant replied.

Gerard looked at him and smiled, mouthing, _Thank you._

“You’re most welcome,” Grant replied.

 _I’m going to go back to my room for a while,_ Gerard added. _I’ll come back later._

Grant nodded. “I will very likely still be here.”

 _Don’t work too hard._ Gerard walked over and touched Grant’s shoulder before slipping past him and through the door. He was so sweet. Grant didn’t think that was the reputation he had concocted for himself at court. But he was.

Grant got lost in his work and didn’t resurface until Gerard came in the room with a tray of sandwiches and leftover soup. Grant laughed. “It’s usually Frank who uses this tactic to get me to remember to eat.” Gerard raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh, I imagine you’re much the same,” Grant protested.

Gerard nodded, set down the tray, and started writing. _I wanted more coffee and noticed the time. I figured it’d be just as easy to make two sandwiches as one._

There was also an extra mug of coffee, and a second bowl of soup—it was clear that Gerard had put more than just a cursory effort into this. Grant smiled at Gerard. “Well. Thank you, just the same. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it.”

Gerard nodded and smiled and they started eating. As they ate, Gerard nodded towards the charms that Grant had spent the morning working on, cocking his head in a clear question.

“That, my boy, is what brings in the steady money.” Grant smiled. “Didn’t your village have a mage?”

 _Yes,_ Gerard wrote. _But my mother knew enough simple magic to get us by, so we rarely used her services._

Grant nodded. “Usually, any given person only needs one or two basic spells or charms to see them through the day to day. Some learn them for themselves, but most don’t have the time, or interest, or the knack of it. I’d never complain,” Grant grinned.

_I always wanted to learn. But then music overtook me and I couldn’t do anything else._

“You feel it deeply,” Grant observed. Gerard just nodded solemnly. “Feeling makes your music superior to others,” Grant said.

Gerard blushed. It was, Grant had noticed, very easy to make Gerard blush. It made him want to do it as often as possible. Frank would lecture him forever on impropriety… it was difficult to see that Frank had any sense of it himself, at least where Grant was concerned.

He went back to his sandwich instead of trying to come up with more ways to make Gerard blush. After they’d finished eating, Gerard took the tray and excused himself.

Grant started to protest, but Gerard neatly dodged him so Grant shrugged and went back to work until he could sense Frank’s presence drawing near. He wasn’t particularly psychic, but any mage could sense those closest to them given enough exposure and a little training. So he wasn’t surprised to hear Frank’s voice from the hall, announcing, “You are never going to fucking guess what I found in the market.”

“Probably not,” Grant answered evenly. Frank burst into the workshop with an excited look on his face. “Are you going to tell me, or make me guess?” Grant asked with a smile.

Frank tapped a finger to his chin, pretending to think about it. Grant waited him out. Frank’s patience was anything but legendary.

“This!” he reached into his bag and pulled out a book. “It was in the used book shop like it was waiting for me. Now we have one less book to look for.”

It was a study of curse constructions; one of the titles Grant had mined from his studies of the last two days. “You’re a marvel,” he told Frank.

“No, I was malingering in the bookshop, but you’re sweet.” Frank flashed a smile.

“Still a marvel,” Grant retorted.

Frank reached into his bag again and pulled out a packet of herbs. “And a restock of everything.”

Grant glanced at his worktable. “Just in time, too.”

“You’ve been busy,” Frank said. “This is the opposite of what usually happens when I leave you alone.”

Grant smiled. “Perhaps Gerard’s lute playing was the key.”

“He played for you?” Frank’s expression went odd for a moment.

“Well, yes,” Grant said, biting back a frown. “He came in here to work. I’m sure he’ll do it again tomorrow, perhaps even later today.”

“Good,” Frank said, and his smile was clearly genuine.

So he just didn’t want to miss the music then. Perhaps. Grant took the bundle of herbs to hide an uncharacteristic tentative feeling.

They put the herbs away where they belonged and Frank disappeared toward the kitchen to put away his market purchases. Grant gathered the used coffee mugs scattered about the workshop and followed him. He smiled to see Frank putting his produce away in his typical methodical manner.

Grant rinsed out the mugs and sat at the table. “We should go through the book you bought this afternoon.”

Frank nodded, already moving to fill the kettle with fresh water and setting it on the stove. Grant sat down with the book, shifting to accommodate Frank when Frank pulled a chair close. Grant flipped to the index so they could get a feel for the book’s contents. “I think this may well be our most helpful volume yet.”

Frank pointed to a particular heading. “Do you think…”

“You know how I feel about blood magic,” Grant murmured.

“I know, but if that’s what was used…” Frank trailed off and gave Grant an uneasy look.

“We shall hope that it doesn’t come to that,” Grant said.

Frank nodded. Grant didn’t think he was truly dissuaded, though. Grant hadn’t told him all the stories he probably should have. He didn’t like revisiting those stories, though. If their perpetrator used blood magic, Grant would find a way to break the curse without it.

“Maybe this one, then,” Frank suggested, pointing to a different heading.

“A mind bridge? Not my forte.”

“I bet between the two of us, we could figure it out,” Frank said, but didn’t press.

“Perhaps we should start at the beginning and see what we come up with,” Grant suggested.

Frank nodded, and got up to fetch the kettle. He made them both cups of tea, as if he knew how much coffee Grant had had that morning. When he came to sit down, he was very close. Grant wasn’t sure when he’d started noticing.

Frank turned the first few pages and started reading a section aloud. Grant grabbed a stray sheet of paper and started making notes. A lot of it was old territory, but it helped him focus. And Grant needed the help because as Frank kept reading, Grant had trouble not zoning in on Frank’s voice. He forced himself to pay close attention to the text itself, rather than the way Frank sounded as he read it. But he wasn’t any closer to a breakthrough before Frank took a break to sip tea.

“Flip forward a few chapters,” Grant suggested.

Frank hummed thoughtfully, paging through the book and finally settling on a chapter relating methods of rune embedding. He tapped a finger on a section on dwarven runes until Grant noticed.

Grant laughed. “It’s looking more and more likely that you will not escape the fate of seeing Warren.”

Frank groaned theatrically and put his forehead on the table. “They’ll appreciate me at the conservatory,” he pouted.

“I appreciate you here. More than I could ever say,” Grant blurted. Frank’s eyes widened, and Grant cursed himself, even if it was the truth.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Frank said after a minute, reaching over to touch Grant’s shoulder. “You know that, right?”

“Yes,” Grant said, shamefaced.

“Good,” Frank said. He didn’t look as if he really believed Grant, though. But he did turn his attention back to the book. “Hey,” he said after a minute. “Didn’t Gerard say that the cursed book had a fancy cover? Carvings, right?”

“Inlaid,” Grant confirmed.

“A…ship? Am I remembering that correctly?” Frank asked.

“That’s right,” Grant said. He still had the vague image of the book in his head from when he’d borrowed Gerard’s memories, but it was too cloudy to be helpful. If it had incorporated runes, he certainly hadn’t noticed at the time.

He’d seen runes done very subtly indeed, so he couldn’t rule it out, either.

Gerard found them an hour or so later. There were pieces of parchment scattered all about the table, and Frank and Grant were arguing about sigils. It took a moment for Grant to notice him, but he was leaning on the door jamb and surely would have been laughing had he been able.

Grant smiled at him. “Frank has a lot of strong feelings about the proper time and occasion for sigils.” Gerard’s raised eyebrow was perfectly clear. “They don’t happen to coincide with mine, no. Alas, I look for an independent mind in my assistants.”

Gerard smirked. Frank just shrugged beside him. “I’m right, whatever you say.”

“You are misguided, and I weep for the future,” Grant told him, but he couldn’t quite bite back his smile.

“We’ll never agree,” Frank told Gerard. Gerard smiled wide and indulgently, and went to put on the coffee again. “I bought more,” Frank said, gesturing to the freshly-replenished coffee supply.

“And you should sit down. Both of you,” Grant told them.

Gerard smiled and did as he was told while Grant tended to the coffee. He set the kettle on for more tea for himself. Gerard gestured to the book and the scattered sheets of paper, questioning.

“Frankie found one of the books we wanted to consult,” Grant explained.

 _Excellent!_ Gerard wrote in his notebook and grinned. _Has it been helpful?_

“Very,” Grant told him.

“I got lucky,” Frank said. “Do you feel like working with us this evening?”

Gerard nodded and shrugged with a smile as if to say he didn’t mind.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Gerard, there are some runes I’d like you to look at to see if they ring any bells.” Grant flipped back through the book to the pages of dwarven runes.

Gerard sat down at the table and pulled the book closer. He squinted at each of the runes Grant pointed to, studied each one. Then pointed to three.

Grant looked back over at his notes, and wasn’t surprised when he saw that the runes Gerard was pointing out were ones he had singled out as interesting. “We are making such progress,” Grant told him earnestly, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Thanks to you.”

Gerard’s face went a deep pink and he shrugged. Frank was giving Grant another one of those odd looks.

Grant realized he was being too forward. He was always too forward, even when he was trying not to be. He sighed and got up. “I’m taking a walk.” He didn’t look at Frank or Gerard. He didn’t want to see the looks they were no doubt giving him.

Before he could brush out of the kitchen completely, Frank stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll start dinner,” he said softly.

“Thanks, love,” Grant murmured back absently, but he didn’t look back.

He made his way to the path leading through a small grove of trees. He felt off-balance. Long-buried feelings for Frank were worming their way to the surface and at the same time it was becoming difficult to resist Gerard. He had to laugh at himself, that he would find himself in this situation despite all of his best intentions. It just… wouldn’t do. Not at all.

He kept walking. It was a nice evening, but he didn’t appreciate it like he normally would. He needed to find his focus. He owed it to Gerard. And to Frank. Especially to Frank. He sighed. Frank deserved everything good and Grant feared he couldn’t provide.

He could start by getting himself together, and breaking Gerard’s curse. Perhaps he would give Frank both halves of the fee. Then there would be no reason for him to feel constrained in any way. Ultimately, he wanted Frank to be happy, to be able to do exactly what he wanted with his life. If, at the end of the day, that meant him leaving Grant, well. Grant would live with that.

He made his way back to the house. He knew Frank would be in the kitchen, so he went in the front door. He could hear Gerard playing a strange little tune in the parlor.

Grant made his way back to the workshop. He pulled a few volumes down off of the shelves and took them to his work bench. He’d scolded himself enough outside, so he just focused on his reading.

He lost himself in reading until he heard a throat clear at the workshop door. Frank. Grant forced himself to disengage from the text and look up.

“Yes?” he said evenly. “Is it supper time?”

Frank nodded. “Your favorite.” He was watching Grant thoughtfully, but there was no censure in his face.

“Do I deserve my favorite?” Grant asked.

“I’m not sure what you’re punishing yourself for, but you don’t need to,” Frank replied.

Grant took a deep breath. Frank was giving him the chance for a fresh start on the evening, and he didn’t intend to waste it. “I do need to come taste supper, so I can tell you how wonderful you are,” he said lightly.

Frank grinned at him. “It’s pretty good supper.”

“I have no doubt,” Grant said gravely. “But all the same, best to check for myself. Just to be sure.”

“Your attention to detail is commendable,” Frank joked.

Grant got up and followed Frank to the dining room. Gerard was already there waiting.

“Everything’s ready,” Frank said, gesturing to the stove. “Grab a bowl and dish up.”

“Yes, sir,” Grant murmured.

They dished up their food and set to eating. It was, of course, Grant’s favorite. A spicy curry over rice from the southern reaches of the kingdom. Frank tended to make it when Grant was feeling poorly, or when they were working a particularly trying job. It had gotten so that the smell of the broth made Grant breathe a little more easily.

He smiled at Frank. “It’s delicious, Frank,” he said. “As always. Thank you.”

Gerard, spoon still in his mouth, nodded enthusiastically. Grant went back to eating. He wasn’t in the mood to provide conversation. Apparently Frank wasn’t either, but the silence didn’t feel terribly uncomfortable. It felt… companionable. Grant marveled that Gerard had been their guest for only a few days, and yet he already felt as though he belonged here at their table.

Perhaps Grant’s bad behavior earlier had been forgiven—or merely in his own mind. The latter was most likely, given Frank’s words in the workshop.

After dinner, Gerard insisted on doing the clearing up, over their protests. Grant finally shook his head and went out to the sitting room himself. He pulled out a notebook and let himself write whatever struck his fancy.

Frank joined him a few minutes later, pressing a mug of tea into his hands and settling in on the opposite sofa.

“Do you need to talk about it?” Frank said after a few minutes of silence.

Grant took a breath, about to decline, then stopped. The problem was, he didn’t know how to talk about it, even if he wanted to. “I’m still… turning things over in my own mind,” Grant told him.

“Of course you are,” Frank said with a smile showing he wasn’t angry.

“You are entirely too patient with me. Particularly given your usual relationship with the concept of patience,” Grant told him.

“Fuck you!” said Frank, but he was smiling. “I don’t know what’s going on in that brain of yours, but if things go like they usually do, it’s going to lead to something interesting.”

“You think?” Grant murmured under his breath.

“I know,” Frank replied decisively.

Gerard walked in, carrying a pile of books and balancing a cup of coffee on top of them. Grant’s lips twitched at his expression of concentration. He tilted a bit when he tried to make his way over to a chair and Frank leapt forward to rescue the coffee.

Gerard smiled at him gratefully. Frank handed the mug back. It seemed to take a long time to make the exchange, Grant thought. He filed that thought away and watched Frank as he sat back down, watched Gerard settle in.

“More work on your performance?” he asked. Gerard nodded, holding up one of the books so they could see the title. Grant was surprised: it was a common book of fairy stories from the region.

“That is going to be so great,” Frank enthused. Gerard grinned at him and opened his book.

Grant had read some of Gerard’s prose, but had yet to hear a performance. He was now intensely curious as to what it would be like.

Frank rose after a little while and disappeared out the door, returning with the guitar that Grant knew was his favorite. He settled back onto the sofa, strumming his way into an old folk song. Gerard bobbed his head, mouthing the words. He was clearly distracted from his reading, but he didn’t seem to mind.

For his part, Grant scanned the pages of the book he was reading but didn’t really take anything in. Frank was humming under his breath. Grant gave up even trying to read and just listened.

* * *

The next morning, Gerard was the first to arrive in the kitchen. He’d slept well, but awakened early. It had been a quiet evening, something he suspected was not out of the ordinary for this household.

Quiet evenings and early mornings weren’t what Gerard was accustomed to at all. But he was getting used to them more easily than he ever expected. He set a kettle going for coffee, and took a seat at the little table, staring out the kitchen window and into the back garden.

This was a beautiful house, far enough from its neighbors for privacy, not so far as to seem intimidating. It was like its owner in that respect. Gerard couldn’t help but like Grant. He had expected to at least feel…in awe of him. Gerard had read his work, after all. But in person, in his home, Grant was kind, and funny, and so full of ideas that it made Gerard dizzy to watch. He had his moods, it seemed, but who didn’t?

And Frank. Frank was just…he was friendly and kind, and had an irreverent sense of humor. Gerard already thought of both of them as good friends, despite having only known them for a few days. He knew he was in a particularly vulnerable position, and he felt so lucky to have people like them working for him. With him. He found himself trusting them more every hour. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that they would do everything they could for him. And it had nothing to do with the money he was paying them.

At first, he hadn’t been sure that not going straight to the Royal Sorcerer had been the right idea. Now, he was certain that he’d made the right choice. He’d written Frank the letter of introduction to Bowbridge Conservatory without a moment of hesitation. His instincts had always served him well, and he was more than glad he’d followed them.

The kettle started whistling cheerily. Gerard jumped a little and shook his head, then went to make the coffee, then sat back down at the table with his mug. The gray cat, Thunder, slunk in and twined around his ankles, and he reached down to pet her absently. He could see the sun was on her way up, and he wondered what they’d do today.

It was some time later when Frank stumbled in. He looked at Gerard in surprise. “You’re keeping country hours already, Capitol boy,” Frank joked with a sly smile.

Gerard smiled and shrugged. He supposed he was. Somehow, here, it felt natural. And he liked working in the early morning hours.

Frank made a pleased noise when he saw the coffee already prepared. “Can we keep you?” he said, ruffling Gerard’s hair and making a beeline for the pot.

Gerard’s very first instinct was to say yes. He _liked_ it here with them. For the first time, he was almost glad that he couldn’t speak, just so he couldn’t say anything foolish. He just smiled when Frank came over and freshened his cup, muttering a casual warming spell and tapping the mug.

Gerard wasn’t getting over that kind of thing any time soon. It wasn’t that he didn’t know such things were possible, but he didn’t hang out with magicians on a regular basis. It was so effortless for these two.

Frank settled down with his own mug, and Thunder immediately jumped up into his lap. Frank was occupied with petting her and looking out the same window Gerard had been surveying earlier. Gerard studied him instead. He looked tired, like maybe he hadn’t slept enough, but he didn’t seem particularly unhappy. A bit sleep-rumpled, perhaps. His loose shirt gave Gerard glimpses of the tattoos on his chest and arms.

Gerard really wouldn’t mind a better look at those, although there was absolutely no polite way to ask. Particularly since the majority of the time, Frank was covered from neck to foot. Gerard had gathered that he got cold easily. Perhaps there was a way to see them, a traitorous part of Gerard’s brain whispered. Traitorous, but no easier to ignore because of it. He concentrated on his coffee and tried really hard not to stare at the ink on Frank’s hands wrapped around his mug.

“We won’t see Grant for at least an hour,” Frank predicted.

Now Gerard was thinking of Grant all wrapped up in his covers. Truly, his mind was misbehaving today. That was another unexpected thing. He hadn’t anticipated being _attracted_ to either of them. But he was. Complicating matters further, he was attracted to _both_ of them. It was easy to be attracted to people in the Capitol. No one expected anything other than the most straightforward of arrangements.

He was certain nothing with them would be straightforward. Particularly since he was fairly convinced that the two of them had feelings for each other. There was obviously a deep friendship between them, but Gerard had eyes.

If nothing else, Gerard could write a ballad about it. He couldn’t decide if it would be happy or tragic. Maybe it was too soon to tell.

After another cup of coffee, Frank said, “Hopefully we’ll hear back from the conservatory today. Do you have any ideas about what I ought to be looking for?”

Gerard considered this, and then nodded, pulling his notebook close.

_Several fellow students returned to Bowbridge to teach. I considered them all to be friends, but it’s possible one did not agree with that._

“Anyone in particular?” Frank asked curiously.

Gerard hesitated, but he knew the answer to that question; it was something he’d been turning over in his head ever since Grant and Frank had brought up the conservatory. He felt guilty about it. At the same time, it wasn’t as if he was telling the authorities.

 _There’s a man there who I thought was a friendly rival. The sort you don’t wish ill on, but are always a little jealous when they succeed._ Frank nodded at him to continue writing. _Ellery Daniels. Last I heard, he was teaching music theory._

“I’ll check him out,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded. He didn’t want to think Ellery capable, but he also remembered that he had a vindictive streak a mile wide. They’d competed for some of the top honors at Bowbridge. He just couldn’t imagine Ellery having the money to pay a mage for this kind of curse. But, perhaps, there was more to Ellery than he’d ever realized.

“Hey,” Frank murmured, reaching over and laying a hand on Gerard’s wrist. “It’s going to be okay.” Gerard smiled. It was hard not to believe Frank when he said these things. “We’ll figure this out and then you’ll perform at the ceremony and that will be the biggest fuck-you possible to whoever did this to you,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded, briefly tangling their fingers together before moving back to his coffee cup.

“I’ll start breakfast,” Frank said after a while. Either he had great hearing or he was slightly psychic—both actually a possibility—because Grant appeared within minutes.

He smiled when he saw the two of them already in the kitchen. “It’s going to be a good morning,” he said. “I’ve decided.”

“Just like that?” Frank teased. Gerard watched the curve of Frank’s smile, and the answering crinkle at the corner of Grant’s eye. It was almost incomprehensible that they hadn’t just climbed out of the same bed. He shook his head and poured Grant a cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep well, Gerard?” Grant asked, settling into the seat Frank had vacated to start breakfast. Gerard nodded. Grant took a sip of coffee. “Very good. I can’t wait to get started today.”

 _Any specific things you’re thinking of doing?_ Gerard wrote.

Grant nodded. “Research, mostly. And I’m going to send a message to our Dwarven friend.”

“Oh, good,” Frank sighed.

Grant smiled into his coffee. “You know you can tease back him right? He enjoys it.” Frank huffed and continued whatever it was that he was doing at the skillet. Grant turned to Gerard. “Warren—our dwarven contact—is actually quite a good friend. I’ve known him for years.”

Gerard thought for a moment, then scrawled, _I could work on a drawing of the book cover? And you could do the -_ He put his pencil down and waved his hand around.

“You want me to scry your memory again?”

Gerard nodded. He wanted to make sure he was right about the runes.

“Anything will be helpful,” Grant agreed. “Especially if we hear back from Bowbridge; if the book is there, this will give Frank something concrete to look for.”

 _I’ll go draw after breakfast,_ Gerard wrote.

Grant nodded. “Excellent. We’ve genuinely made good progress thus far, but it’d be nice if it felt more like we had something to show for it.”

Gerard took another sip of his coffee, got up and started getting out breakfast fixings.

“Thanks, Gee,” Frank said as he moved to give Gerard room to get the plates down.

The casual nickname gave Gerard pause for a moment, stirring something warm in his chest. He really wasn’t sure when he’d become the type of person to do things like this. At home, he wasn’t at all domestic. Was their influence really so strong, here in this cozy house full of magic? He didn’t _mind_ at all, but it was strange that it felt so natural.

He let himself brush his fingertips along Frank’s shoulder as he walked back to the table. He caught the tail end of Frank’s smile when he did it. Gerard smiled too and moved to set the table. Grant was studying him with an unreadable expression.

Grant murmured a thank-you when Gerard settled a plate in front of him. Gerard gritted his teeth, not for the first time, when he tried to answer and the voice was not there. He didn’t bother to write down _you’re welcome_ , just sighed and squeezed Grant’s shoulder. Grant brushed his own hand over Gerard’s wrist, just briefly.

Gerard bit the inside of his cheek and went to slice bread. He placed it on the toasting rack on the stove and watched carefully as it toasted, flipping it when it was perfectly brown.

“Nice,” Frank said, clapping him on the back.

Gerard smiled, but kept his eyes on the stove. He wasn’t very good at cooking most things, but he _could_ make perfect toast.

“Eggs are done,” Frank said a few moments later. His hand landed on Gerard’s hip as he squeezed by with a hot pan.

Gerard swallowed. Apparently this morning was going to be half-torture.

The toast was done soon afterwards, and Gerard flipped it onto a waiting plate and carried it over to the table. Frank snagged a piece off the top of the stack and stuffed it into his mouth with a grin. Gerard smirked and took one of his own, covering it with a fried egg and reaching for the salt cellar. He sprinkled some on and started eating. He never ate this well at home and definitely never ate breakfast. It was kind of nice.

As with the past few mornings, breakfast was a quiet affair. But it was a comfortable silence. The door chime sounded as Grant was collecting stacks of empty plates.

“That’ll be the conservatory’s response, I bet,” Frank said and left to answer the door. He returned a few moments later, a letter in his hand. “Skald, do the honors,” he said and handed the letter to Gerard.

Gerard wrinkled his nose at Frank and cracked open the seal. He scanned the page quickly, lips quirking into a smile. Jon had a… unique way with correspondence.

_It’s been forever, you arse. You couldn’t come yourself? Next time, or I come to the Capitol and find you. Of course your representative is welcome. I’ll keep things hushed on his behalf._

He turned the letter toward Frank and Grant so they could read. Frank laughed. “Seems like I’ll like this guy.” Gerard thought that Jon and Frank would probably get along very well. “I’ll pack up and go this afternoon,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded. Grant’s expression was a mix of concern and resignation. He clearly didn’t want Frank to go.

“Hey,” Frank said, reaching over to touch Grant’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine. In, out, back before you know it. Hopefully, with information that will help us. Hell, maybe I’ll even luck out and bring back the book.”

“Just don’t touch it, or open it,” Grant said severely. “I need you to keep your voice.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “I know you’re worried, so I’m going to forgive you for treating me like I’m an idiot.”

Grant huffed, but he looked contrite. Frank patted him on the cheek. They were both slow to pull apart, Gerard noticed. He reached for his notebook and pushed himself to his feet. He’d go to the parlor and work on the pastoral section. He excused himself with a quick bow, and left the kitchen.

Grant came to fetch him about an hour later. “We didn’t mean to chase you away with our bickering,” he apologized softly. “I can’t say I’m presenting my best face to you. Please forgive me.”

Gerard smiled. _You seemed like you needed privacy. I didn’t mind in the slightest._

Grant sighed. “I… Worry,” he said. “Unnecessarily. Frank is more than capable of taking care of himself. He did it for many years before he even came to me.”

Being mute conveniently saved Gerard from making the obvious reply. Instead, he gave Grant what he hoped was a sympathetic look.

Grant chuckled ruefully. “I know, I know.”

Gerard wasn’t sure he did know.

“Thank you for being understanding,” Grant said. “Come to the workshop, if you’d like.” Gerard thought perhaps he shouldn’t. But all the same, he found himself gathering his things.

Frank was gathering things from shelves and desks like a small whirlwind when Gerard let himself into the room. Gerard watched him curiously. He obviously intended to do some spells at the conservatory. Gerard wondered what sort.

“Spells for finding,” he said, when he saw Gerard looking. “General supplies, protection. Some healing spells just in case,” he added, panting.

“Frank is very prepared,” Grant murmured. “Did you work on that drawing for me at all, Gerard?”

Gerard nodded, opened his notebook to the page, tore it out, and handed it over to Frank. Frank studied the page carefully. “Did you want me to do the scrying this time?” he asked after a moment. “You’re better with memories, you know that.”

“It’d be good for you to see what you can. Enforce what you need to be looking for,” Grant said.

Frank bit his lip, clearly a little unsure. He looked at Gerard. Gerard wasn’t sure what Frank needed from him, but he nodded. He trusted Frank.

Frank went back to packing his bag, dusting his hands off on his trousers when he was done. “Well, you heard the boss,” he said with the hint of a wink at Gerard.

Gerard sat like he did the time before and watched as Grant and Frank set up again.

“Grant can do this without the prep,” Frank told him. Gerard thought back to a few days before, when Grant had touched his temples and looked into his memories. A shiver slid up his spine at the remembered sensation. “I’m not as good as he is, so we gotta do the whole thing.”

“Not as good _yet_ ,” Grant insisted.

Gerard quirked an eyebrow at Grant, but turned back to Frank right away as he turned a chair around and sat close.

Gerard concentrated on that night in the library and Frank began. It wasn’t quite the same as when Grant did it, but it was still deeply weird knowing, _feeling_ , that there was someone else in his head.

Frank was leaning close; so close that Gerard could feel Frank’s breath feathering against his own cheek. His fingertips were cold against Gerard’s temples. Gerard could hardly breathe. He tried everything he could to keep his mental image of the book at the front of his mind.

It was an enormous relief when Frank murmured, “Got it,” and his fingertips left Gerard’s temples. However, when Gerard blinked his eyes open, Frank was looking straight at him. Gerard swallowed and tried to return the gaze steadily.

Frank didn’t look particularly angry, or startled. “I’ve got a good picture of what I should be looking for now,” he said. “This rune needs reshaping, a little,” he added, snagging Gerard’s pencil and adjusting a line.

Gerard looked at it. _That does look closer._

Frank nodded. “Can you make a copy?” Gerard quickly sketched another, and Frank picked the first drawing up, tucking it away in a pocket. “I’ve really got to go, if I’m to be to Bowbridge by dark.”

“Be safe,” Grant told him. “If you’re not back in two days, I’m coming after you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Frank promised again. “Try not to miss me too much,” he added with a grin.

“I shall attempt to miss you the regular amount,” Grant said. Gerard was pretty sure the regular amount was actually quite a lot.

They followed Frank to the front door, where he put on a traveling cloak and picked up a small satchel. “Goodbye, behave yourselves,” Frank chuckled and headed down the front path with a wave.

Grant took a deep breath and heaved a sigh. Gerard reached to squeeze his shoulder. Grant smiled at him. “I’m afraid we probably won’t eat as well while he’s gone. Frank is a much better cook than me.”

Gerard waved a hand airily: he was used to his own cooking, after all.

“I’m going to sit down and write to Warren; may I join you in your music room?”

Gerard nodded. He liked having company in there. It wasn’t a large house, but somehow the parlor made him feel far away from everyone.

“I’ll meet you back there,” Grant told him. He disappeared upstairs and Gerard went to tune a mandolin.

Grant returned with a stationary kit and set everything up at the small desk in the room as Gerard plucked the strings of his instrument and turned the pegs. Gerard had developed a new idea for the pastoral section during his earlier writing, and he turned to those notes now, attempting to find the correct melody to bring the theme to life.

He ran through several chord progressions as Grant tapped a pen against his desk. It definitely wasn’t an annoyed tapping, and it wasn’t quite keeping the beat, but it somehow fit. Maybe he’d have a section of quiet percussion that made seemingly random noises to imitate the feel and sound of being out in nature.

Gerard allowed himself to chase that idea for a while, to see where it might lead him. He started tapping on the body of his mandolin, and when his tapping lined up with Grant’s, Grant looked up and smiled. Gerard smiled back and leaned down to write down his idea for Grant to see.

“Brilliant,” Grant told him. His smile was warm. Gerard thought that he would do so, so many things to see that smile directed at himself. It was now, of course. But not– intimately.

Gerard bit the inside of his cheek. It would do no good to think these thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention back to his mandolin. Thinking of his mandolin was always productive.

He plucked out a melody he liked, then did it again with some added finger work. Grant had returned to his letter, but he occasionally added a flourish of rhythm here or there. It reminded Gerard of the other morning in the kitchen with Frank. It was just one more way that he felt he _fit_ here in this house.

He missed his voice so much. He missed being able to _say_ all the things in his head. Normally, he just told his brother or his apartments, but the words were out in the world and that meant something to him. And, more importantly, he thought these people, that Frank and Grant might actually listen and appreciate his words.

He hoped more than anything that he would, someday soon, get the chance to find out. He missed being able to sing, too. His music felt so incomplete without it.

He took a deep breath and kept playing. Grant and Frank would help him.

He spent the next few hours working on the pastoral section. Despite everything, he was pleased with the progress he’d made. Grant disappeared with his letter after a while, only to return with a large book like Gerard’s own and start writing.

Gerard enjoyed working in the same room with him. It was grounding, somehow. He probably spent too much time alone in the Capitol. It was why he enjoyed working at the Royal Library so much.

He preferred working as they did at the conservatory with small groups assigned to various rooms. Especially when he could work with people whose ideas inspired him. Sometimes he worked with a friend of his who was an artist. That was always incredibly rewarding for him, but they couldn’t do that all the time, much as Gerard might wish it.

But when Gerard looked at the work he’d accomplished since coming to this house, it was clear that curse or no curse, he was more focused than he’d been in months. He had to look at that as a positive.

* * *

The carriage ride to the little town of Bowbridge, and its renowned musical conservatory, was uneventful. Frank was glad for the book he brought. The journey took most of the afternoon, and the sun was just starting to set by the time they started down the conservatory’s long, landscaped drive.

It was beautiful. Frank could see why Gerard seemed so fond of it. It was also the sort of place Frank always wished he’d fit into, but knew he wouldn’t. But then, Gerard ended up here and he wasn’t exactly the most normal person in the world.

All in all, it was easy enough to pretend to be a wide-eyed prospective student. Frank was frequently frustrated by how young people seemed to think he was—he would be thirty next year, for fuck’s sake—but he couldn’t deny that at times it had its advantages. He was sort of excited about this– espionage. Even if Grant was clearly picturing doom and gloom.

Whoever they were dealing with was clearly dangerous, but there was no reason anyone would recognize Frank here.

He entered the building through the impressively carved doors at the front. A portly man about his own age came out of an office near the front door. Also _tall_. He looked down and gave Frank a once-over. “You must be the man Gee sent us.”

Frank nodded. “Are you Jon?”

“I am. I’ve been keeping an eye on the drive all afternoon. Please, come into my office so we can talk.”

Confidentially, Frank assumed. He followed Jon into his small, but well-appointed office. Jon gestured to a pair of comfortable-looking chairs in front of an overflowing bookshelf.

“So, what exactly do you do here?” Frank asked.

“Many things,” Jon replies. “I teach a class or two and help with administrative tasks. Gerard is one of my best friends.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile. “He seems like a really good guy.”

“He’s wonderful. I trust him completely, but I do need to ask—what exactly is it that you’re looking to accomplish here, Frank?”

“Did he explain why he was with us?” Frank asked carefully. Jon nodded. “I’m here to see if I can find the book that did it. Or find some sort of evidence. We can’t break the curse without knowing how it was cast.”

Jon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I hate thinking that anybody here could…”

“People can,” Frank said seriously. “People always can.”

“I know,” Jon said with a sigh. “I’m torn between hoping you don’t find anything and that you find something immediately.”

Frank nodded. “Helping Gerard is the most important thing. If the book is here, I’m hoping to find it quickly.”

“I’ll trust you with my master key,” Jon said. “We honor privacy of staff and students as much as we can, but this is a special circumstance. What do you intend to tell our residents?”

“That I’m a prospective student,” he replied. “I even brought my guitar.”

That got a smile out of Jon. He looked like a person who was in the habit of smiling; Frank could tell that this situation was weighing heavily on his mind. “Would you like a tour?”

“Please,” Frank replied with a smile.

The conservatory was just as lovely inside as it was outside. The students they passed were a mix of ages, genders, playing more instruments than Frank had ever seen in one place.

It made Frank wish he could play more often. It was almost a relief to realize he didn’t actually wish he’d gone to a conservatory. He was content with the turns his life had made and that he’d chosen to work with Grant.

But Jon clearly loved this place. Nearly every student and staff member they passed waved or called out a hello to him. Frank met several teachers, too, but not the one Gerard had named.

He tried to take in everything, make note of everything he saw. When Jon showed him the back courtyard, Frank immediately recognized the giant tree that grew in its center as the one he’d seen through the scrying spell.

Jon saw him looking it over. “You interested in that?”

“It’s, ah, relevant to some of my current studies,” Frank said.

“Oh!” said Jon, clearly understanding. “Let me get you set up in a room so you can change for supper,” Jon said. “You can stare at the tree later.”

Frank smiled. “Thank you. And thank you for the tour.”

“Don’t hesitate to ask if you require anything else,” Jon said, pointedly.

Frank nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

“You’ll hear the dinner bell,” Jon told him when they reached a small room on the third floor. “Or ask anyone, this floor is mostly staff.” Another pointed look.

Frank nodded. “Thank you very much.”

Jon left him then, and Frank peered curiously around the room. It was small but well-appointed. Jon had already showed him the practice rooms so he knew it wasn’t meant for practice, mostly for sleep and perhaps study. Frank intended to spend most of his time outside of it. Which he suspected was true of most of the students anyway.

He got his things settled, taking care with the pouch that held the ingredients for the scrying spells he planned on trying as soon as possible. He touched the leather thong around his neck that held the master key Jon had given him. At least he could lock them up.

He slipped out and locked the door behind himself and wandered out to the atrium where he’d seen several students. He found a spot to sit and listen to them talk. He had a notebook, and pretended to be deeply engrossed in writing. None of them approached him, although several gave him curious looks.

After a bit, they forgot their curiosity and went back to their discussions. Frank kept his head down, and his ears open. Eventually he was fairly sure their gossip was aimed at him, and he looked up and lifted an eyebrow. He caught the eye of a very pretty young lady who raised her own eyebrow right back at him. He nodded at her politely.

“You might as well come over here,” she told him.

He smiled, gathered his things, and made his way over to the small cluster of students.

“You’re a new face,” said the girl. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Greta.”

“Frank, hi,” he said.

“Prospective,” another student said. “Saw you earlier.”

Frank nodded. “Nice to meet you all.”

All of them, it turned out, were in their final year of study here. They asked him a dozen questions about his areas of musical interest, which Frank tried to answer as completely as he could. They all seemed to accept his answers, so he wasn’t doing too bad. When he admitted his love of the guitar, he quickly found himself drawn into a heated debate about playing styles that was, apparently, a long-running question within the group.

Greta and Ian bickered for long enough that he got distracted again and was startled by bells sounding through the floor.

“Dinner!” Greta told him with a smile and everyone started gathering their things. He was probably ten years older than all of these people. It felt a little odd to think about, but they were all nice.

As they walked down to the dining hall, they were joined by another group of students, who waded into the still-running argument with a will. Frank let it all wash over him, all while keeping his eyes and ears open.

Jon waved to him when he walked into the vaulted room, but Frank just waved back—he wasn’t yet sure how the school divided itself along age lines and didn’t want to give anything away. He stuck with Greta and her friends and followed them to what was clearly their regular table.

Greta pointed out various locations of interest as they walked. There wasn’t any table service, apparently. Frank quickly looked over the dinner offerings. He chose several things that looked tasty and hoped they really were.

After they were settled, he decided to start doing some investigating of his own. “So what are the staff like here? I met Professor Rivera– he seems nice.” A chorus of agreement, instantly. Frank smiled.

“Rivera is great. Watson has up and down days, but he’s generally great. And Claret is awesome, but she can be weirdly strict.”

“And sometimes her husband crashes her class and we end up with a lesson on arrhythmic percussion,” Ian said. “That’s always interesting.”

“Gerard would like that,” Frank said before he could catch himself.

“Gerard?” Greta asked, eyebrow lifted.

It would be easier to tell some approximation of the truth, he knew. “Skald Way. He’s a friend. He’s actually the one who inspired me to come here.”

One of the students who’s joined them as they were walking in—Frank thought his name was Brendon—-said, “You _know_ Skald Way?” 

“Don’t a lot of people here?” Frank asked.

“He was a little before our time,” Greta said. “He’s a Bowbridge legend.”

“He taught a seminar when we were in our first year,” Bob chimed in. “It was just for fourth-years, but half the school snuck in.”

“Professor Daniels still complains about it,” Brendon added.

“Why?” Frank asked, feigning confusion. “Wouldn’t he be pleased to see him?”

The boy next to Brendon snorted. “Yeah, not Daniels. He’s got some hardcore sour grapes.”

“Gossip’s not nice, Ryan,” Greta said.

Ryan shot her a cheeky smile. “Neither is Daniels.”

Frank glanced up at the table where the professors were sitting. “Which one is he?”

“Blond, curly hair,” Brendon replied.

Frank saw him after a moment. He was seated off to the side, on the opposite end of the table to Jon. “What’s he like?” he asked. “I haven’t met many people with a grudge against Gerard.”

“I think he’s jealous,” Greta said confidently, abandoning her anti-gossip stance.

“Everybody knows that Skald Way has the ear of the queen,” said Brendon, excitedly. “I can’t believe you know him! How’d you meet him?”

“He’s a friend of the man I work for,” Frank replied smoothly. Besides. It was true. Now.

“Well, Daniels is sour because he didn’t make it as a skald,” Ryan said authoritatively. They all nodded. Frank looked around at their teenage faces and wondered how many of them would. He liked them all so far and he was already rooting for them.

He laughed at himself a little. Maybe he really was changing as he got older. He used to think he’d hate to change, but every change he’d made in himself was for the better.

Greta launched into a story about the final performance from the previous year. Frank listened with one ear and studied Daniels, wondering if he could follow him after the meal. He could do a few misdirection spells, maybe. It would also be useful to get his schedule and sneak into his quarters. Jon could probably help with that.

There was no guarantee that Daniels was behind anything, he reminded himself. But he felt as though this was a good starting place. Besides, anyone who didn’t like Gerard was already on Frank’s shit list. That was a little surprising, but true. He honestly couldn’t imagine disliking Gerard. It was extremely strange to him.

Of course, it was possible that he liked Gerard a little bit more than was strictly appropriate. Entirely too possible. He ate his food and listened to the others as they talked about their classes, their classmates. It was an enjoyable meal. But part of him longed to be seated around a much smaller table with Grant and Gerard. It was ridiculous how much. He always missed Grant, but he’d never told him. Not really. Whenever he visited his family, whenever he went away to the city for a weekend, he missed Grant.

And even though Gerard had only been a part of their lives for a short time, Frank missed him, too. He sighed. He was in too deep. Perhaps it was best he was going to be away for a couple of days. He would have some distance.

Still. He didn’t _want_ distance. He wanted pretty much the opposite. He rolled his eyes at himself and turned his attention back to Ryan.

After dinner, Frank excused himself back to his guest room. He had followed Daniels out, but his quarry was now ensconced in a staff lounge, so Frank couldn’t do much at that moment.

He went back to his room and brought out the scrying materials. Perhaps he could do a spell now. He drew out the sigil and laid out the ingredients, centering himself in preparation.

As he began the chant, he held the image of the tree in his mind’s eye. It grew, the branches reaching into every part of his mental vision. He breathed deeply and kept chanting.

He reached for his power as Grant had taught him. He’d never get over the feeling of the magic rushing through him.

The images in his head flickered and turned from memory to vision. He was scrying for the book itself, but it immediately became clear that the spell was _showing_ him Gerard. He could feel Gerard’s presence pressed into the conservatory. The building remembered the sound of Gerard’s voice.

Frank enjoyed the echoes of it bouncing around his head, but forced himself not to chase the sound, but focus on Gerard. On Gerard seated beneath the tree. Frank saw him sitting there on a variety of different days, in all but the worst weather. Younger, but with the same determined set to his face as he chewed on the end of a pencil and scratched determinedly in a notebook.

“What does it mean?” Frank muttered. “How is this supposed to help me?”

And then he saw Gerard tuck a book into a crevice in the tree. He practically fell over his own feet in his rush to get out of his room again and down to the courtyard. Maybe there was something there.

It was fully dark now, and cold, but the courtyard was illuminated by dozens of warmly glowing lanterns and the light from the conservatory windows. Frank remembered to stop and murmur a misdirection spell. He sat in the spot where he’d seen Gerard sit in his vision and carefully ran his fingers over the tree, looking for the same crevice.

“Come on, Gee,” he murmured.

When he finally found the fissure, he muttered a spell for light before reaching inside. His fingers wrapped around a book and with his heart in his throat, he looked at the cover. It was blank, no ships in sight. He rolled his eyes at himself.

“That would have been too easy,” he muttered. Still, maybe…

He did a quick detection spell; the book held some magical residue, but nothing powerful enough to be a spell itself. He decided the book was safe enough (though Grant would probably have had a fit) and carefully opened it.

It was handwritten, too difficult to read in the wavering light. He made a face and tucked it into his inner pocket, then made sure the spot was empty of any other clues before making his way back to his room. He locked the door behind him, muttering a silencing charm for good measure. Then he returned to his ingredient kit, pulling out what he would need for a more thorough magical detection spell. Grant would scold him forever if he didn’t do one before starting to read.

He didn’t find any active spells, but the magical residue was intense. He’d have to do more investigating, but Frank was reasonably certain this book had been used in the curse. He sucked in a breath. This was big. He just didn’t know why it was still there in that tree. The only way to find out was to start reading.

It was much easier to make out the spidery handwritten text now. The book’s first few pages had been torn out, and the first page began in the middle of a thought.

It was a diary of sorts. Why Gerard had left it there in the first place was beyond him, unless he’d forgotten about it, or just– not cared. Or maybe he just liked the romance of it. Leaving something like this where someone would find it; that sounded like something Gerard would do.

He skimmed, eyes landing on a passage here and there.

_Toro and I have been working together to create an instrumentation for the composition I’ve been writing. We hope to have it done in time to submit for the Summer Festival._

Others talked more generally about creating, thoughts about what music could do. Others still were more personal.

One caught his eye, _Daniels mocks me for using metaphor to describe real experience, but that makes it more real to me. It makes those things easier to confront. What are the great epics for, if not for giving people the strength to confront the demons they speak of?_

Demons were more evident in different entries.

_It seems I will always be alone._

Frank frowned deeply, overcome with the wish to rush home and give Gerard a hug. He continued flipping through the journal. On a page close to the end he found an entry that began, _The news came today: I beat Daniels for the fellowship in the Capitol! (He looked as though he’d choked on a lemon. It was wonderful.)_

It was one of the only even remotely negative things Frank had seen Gerard write in the entire book. Still, he smirked, and flipped the page for more.

_Leaving for the Capitol tomorrow. I hope things continue to go well here. I enjoyed every moment of my time here. Especially the hours I sat under the tree._

Under that was a note in a new hand, clearly not Gerard’s. The words made Frank’s breath catch in his throat.

_You didn’t fucking deserve any of it. And now everyone is going to know._

Writing that, putting the book back in the tree… Frank dove for a reference book. This had to be part of the spell. He wondered what he needed to do to find the actual book through this one. It should be easy, at least in comparison to what they’d been doing.

He grabbed a pen and a blank sheet of parchment and started making lists. He’d need to compare the handwriting too. Just to make sure. He wished he had Grant here to help, but he knew he could do this by himself. He _would_ do this by himself. For Gerard.

He closed the book and set it gently aside, then cleaned up his supplies. He couldn’t repeat the spell he’d done earlier straightaway, but he could start on others. He’d promised to return to Grant and Gerard in two day’s time. He intended to keep his word. If that meant going without sleep, so be it.

He did a basic spell on the book, just to confirm his suspicions. The spell indicated that the cursed book was very close. From there, he started others, beginning with the ones that took hours to show the results. Every so often, he took care to renew the protective spells he’d cast around the room to prevent anyone from sense the magic and coming to investigate.

When he’d done all he could do and was waiting for his locator spell to brew, he reached for the journal again. It was…Gerard. In his own words without the necessity of writing everything down as he’d been doing with them. These were the thoughts Gerard felt were important enough to write down. It was clear that Gerard loved what he did: his passion for music, and storytelling, and the intersection between the two, was palpable.

Frank couldn’t put the book down. He’d read this forever, listen to Gerard say any of it. Forever. He wanted to hear Gerard’s voice, wanted to know which words he’d emphasize in speaking.

He couldn’t help but think back to a few nights before, when Grant and Gerard had been sitting at the kitchen table and pouring over a book together while Frank had prepared dinner. How they’d looked– Grant’s broad smile and Gerard’s busy hands. Imagined walking in on the same scene, cursed book in hand, presenting it for their inspection.

He knew he’d get a proud, fond look from Grant and a clap on the shoulder. Frank always wished he’d lean in closer when that happened. He wished… Fuck. He wished for a lot of things, when it came to Grant. He had for years, especially since he’d gone from being Grant’s apprentice to his business partner. But now he found himself folding Gerard into those wishes, too.

Grant would look so gorgeous threading his fingers into Gerard’s dark hair, stroking his lips with a stained thumb.

Frank bit his own lip. Gerard had a life that he was anxious to return to. It wouldn’t do to of think such things. He would find the book, and then he and Grant would unravel the curse and restore Gerard’s voice. And then he could go back to the way things were before. At least then, there would only be one person to contend with in his space.

By the time the bells rang for breakfast the next morning, Frank had a small crystal keyed to a very specific scrying enchantment. It hummed beneath his hand, ready to activate as soon as Frank spoke the correct words. He went down to breakfast with the master key around his neck and the crystal tucked safely in an inside pocket.

Ryan waved him over to their table and he went with a smile. He’d only gotten an hour of sleep, so he hoped there would be plentiful coffee. He laughed at the thought. Of course there would be; Gerard had lived here.

Sure enough, there was a carafe already on the table. “Sleep well?” Greta asked sunnily.

He laughed. “You could say that. I need coffee, though.”

“We’ll share.” Ian poured him a mug and handed it over. Frank held it close to his nose and inhaled deeply.

“Hey, it’s decent,” he commented.

“There’d be a riot if it weren’t,” Ryan drawled.

Frank smiled. “If Gerard is anything to go by, you’re all horribly addicted.”

This was met with a chorus of sad nods. Brendon reached for the pot. “Well, needs must.” He poured a cup for himself and Ryan groaned.

“How many is that? Your timing will be off half the morning.”

Brendon grinned manically. “Enough. And my timing is always perfect.” The blond sitting next to him snorted. “That’s enough from you, Smith,” Brendon said airily.

“What’s your plan today, Frank?” Ian asked.

“I’m to sit in on a couple of classes and meet with professors,” Frank replied. In between using his crystal to find the book.

“Ooh, what classes?” asked Greta. “I hope you’ll get to sit in on one of Professor Toro’s lectures– he’s fantastic.”

Toro– Frank recognized that name from the book. A friend of Gerard’s. His other class needed to be something with easy access to Daniels, but he could spare the time for this, he thought.

After breakfast, Jon caught up with him in the hall and pulled him into a spare office. “Do you need anything, Frank? How goes it?”

Frank smiled. “I’m good. Pretty sure I’ll have what I need by the end of the day. What classes does Daniels teach today? And what time? I promised the kids I’d go to one of Toro’s classes, so hopefully there aren’t any conflicts.”

Jon grinned at him. “Toro is one of the best. Or faculty is amazingly lucky to have him. I can give you the schedule.” His face lost some of its enthusiasm when he said, “Daniels, then? Damn.”

“I have to be sure, but…” Frank trailed off.

Jon sighed and shook his head. “But you’re pretty sure?” Frank nodded. “Damn,” Jon said again. “I can’t say I’m surprised, really, but… well. I’d hoped that whoever was responsible wouldn’t be somebody I see every night at the dinner table.”

“Do you know anything about his finances, Jon?” Frank asked.

“He comes from a well-off family in Suthmere,” Jon replies.

“That would explain how he could afford a curse like this,” Frank said. “And the relationship between him and Gerard…?”

Jon snorted. “Are you looking for the facts or the gossip?”

“Both,” Frank replied.

“They were always friendly,” Jon replied. “We were all part of a relatively large group of friends. They always gave each other grief and competed for the same things, but to this day, Daniels is still bitter about some of it, whereas Gerard doesn’t give a shit.”

“Gerard won some sort of fellowship after you all graduated,” Frank said, remembering what he’d read in the journal.

“Yes, and I think Daniels had been groomed to think such things would fall into his lap. And Gerard came from– nothing, really, and just. Earned it.”

“But teaching here is prestigious, surely?” Frank asked.

“Yes,” Jon replied. “But I think his family had their eyes set on the Capitol and he was to be their foot over the threshold, as it were.”

“And he wasn’t able to make it on his own?” Frank asked.

“I don’t know if he even tried. He really expected to win that fellowship.” Jon frowned. “I don’t know if I can even look at him the same now.”

“I don’t blame you,” Frank replied. “Maybe when Gerard shows him up _again_ he’ll give up and fade into obscurity.”

Jon nodded. “Or at least give up whatever foolish notions of ‘revenge’ he might be harboring.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. “There’s no…legal retribution for Gerard?”

“There could be. If Gerard wants to press charges. As of now, he wants to keep this whole thing quiet,” Frank said.

Jon nodded tightly. “I suppose for now the important thing is to find that book, so you can sort this whole thing out.”

“Give me a class schedule and you can leave that to me,” Frank assured him.

Jon rifled through a pile of paper and handed one over to Frank. “That has all of them, even office hours and the like.”

“Perfect,” Frank said. He paused. “You… wouldn’t happen to have anything that would have Daniels’ handwriting on it, would you?”

Jon nodded and plucked a sheet out of a folder. Frank pulled Gerard’s book from his inner pocket and compared the last page with the page in front of him. They were a pretty clear match.

“Fuck,” Jon said, feelingly. Frank tucked the book away again.

“I’ll stop by later,” Frank promised. He had scrying to do.

“I’ll be here,” Jon replied and waved as Frank went out the door.

He looked at the schedule Jon had given him. Daniels wasn’t teaching until later, but Toro had a class that started in—Frank glanced at the clock—less than a quarter of an hour. Visit Toro first, then. Frank was impatient but also curious.

He made his way toward the building he thought the lecture was supposed to be in. Naturally, he got hopelessly turned around. But the Bowbridge grounds were lovely to wander through, and soon enough he found a group of students willing to point a “prospective” in the right direction.

The room, once located, was airy and high-ceilinged. A tall man with wildly curling hair sat at the front, tuning a lap harp. Frank searched an unoccupied seat. They were hard to come by. This Toro was clearly popular.

He slipped into a seat near the back. He was prepared to enjoy the lecture, but as it turned out, he was blown away. Toro was dynamic and amazingly talented. Frank wanted to just sit down with him and _talk_. He could see why all of the students he’d talked to had fawned over him. Unfortunately, he was on a tight schedule. Maybe he could arrange to meet Toro through Gerard sometime.

He laughed at himself a little ruefully, because there he went again, thinking like Gerard was going to be around long-term.

He filed out with the rest of the students, putting aside the thoughts of talking with Toro. He had an hour during which Daniels was supposed to be in class. He had to work fast.

He waited until all the students were settled into their next lectures, then made his way quickly to the area where the professors’ offices were. Ducking into an alcove, he pulled the crystal from his pocket and murmured the spell.

The spell vibrated and pointed north. Frank went that direction. He continued down the hall, stopping to repeat the spell periodically. He frowned when it led him past Daniels’ office. He kept going, though, following the pull of the crystal. He could tell that he was at least getting close: the enchantment on the crystal could feel the resonances of the enchantment on the book. It was not only vibrating now, it had started emitting a faint glow.

He kept moving in the direction it was leading him. He honestly had no idea where he was going at this point if it wasn’t in Daniels’ office.

Eventually, he came to a small door tucked away near the end of the hallway. He opened it with his master key, and noticed two things: it was a messy little storage room, and opening it had set off a warning spell. He could feel the magical disturbance. “Shit,” he hissed. He’d have to be quick.

He rifled through the drawers in a dresser near the door, then took a deep breath and remembered to trust the crystal. He murmured the incantation one more time, and was rewarded when the crystal thrummed in his hand, almost tugging him towards a small shelf in the back of the room.

It was crammed with double-stacked books. Frank swore again and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, flipping through the stacks. He felt it before he saw it. The curse was so powerful it was practically humming. And when his fingertips brushed the book’s spine, he felt the shiver of the curse in his very bones.

He remembered the handkerchief, wrapped it around the spine, and pulled. There was the embossed ship on the cover. He took a breath and the smiled, before wrapping the book more tightly in the handkerchief and sliding it into his inner pocket.

It wasn’t over; there was still the matter of the warning spell he’d set off. But Frank had planned for this, and he drew a small sachet of herbs out of a different pocket, carefully setting it down where the cursed book had been.

As he slipped out of the storage room, he heard footsteps thundering on the nearby stairs. He went the opposite direction. He didn’t know where it would lead him, but he hoped there was another way to get out.

Frank banked hard around a corner, murmuring a misdirection spell as he went. He flew down the first set of stairs he came across. Cutting across the next hall, he nearly ran smack into Brendon and Ryan.

“Hi?” Brendon offered.

“Lost,” Frank panted. “Need. Walked. Rivera.”

“I think he has office hours right now,” Ryan said.

“Perfect,” Frank said. Now that he had a bit of his breath back, he tried a smile. “Think you could point me in the right direction?”

“I’ll walk with you,” Ryan offered. “I’m going that way.”

Frank nodded, relieved, and Ryan led him in the direction they needed to go. Frank kept his eyes open, but didn’t see Daniels anywhere as they walked. His sachet for temporary disorientation had most likely worked. He breathed a little more easily.

“You’re not really here as a prospective student, are you?” Ryan asked.

Frank was startled for a moment. He debated with himself, but Ryan didn’t seem the sort who would be turning him in to Daniels. “Nope. It’s a…personal matter,” Frank said carefully.

Ryan nodded and didn’t pry, though Frank could see he was curious. “That’s a bummer. It would have been fun to have you here.”

“I really am friends with Gerard,” Frank offered. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe I’ll see you in the Capitol,” Ryan said with a small smile.

“Perhaps you will,” Frank replied with a smile.

Very quickly, they arrived at an area of offices that looked more familiar to Frank.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered. Jon looked up at the sharp knock on his door. “Thanks, Ryan,” Frank said and Ryan nodded and waved goodbye. Frank slipped in and closed the door behind him, pressing a palm to the doorframe and speaking a silencing charm.

Jon looked interested. A little freaked out. “Do you have it?”

Frank nodded. “I almost got caught. There was a spell that I tripped like an idiot.”

“So you’ll want to leave sooner than later,” Jon said.

“Mind giving me an escort to the room where I left my things?” Frank asked.

“Not a problem,” Jon said. “It’s a shame you can’t stay longer, but needs must.”

“I’ll come back,” Frank promised. He meant it, too. At least at this moment.

Jon walked him up for his bags and watched him repack his kit. “What next?”

“Get home as fast as I can and then Grant and I can reverse-engineer this spell. And then the work of breaking it starts. This will _maybe_ get us halfway there. If we’re lucky,” Frank explained.

“At least you found it,” Jon said. The he frowned. “Should I worry about Daniels?”

“I don’t know him, but– I’d be worried,” Frank admitted.

Jon nodded grimly. “Right. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Frank offered his hand. “It really was great to meet you, Jon. I hope I’ll be able to come back sometime. Hopefully with less sneaking around.” He handed over the master key. “I know Gerard will appreciate the trust you’ve put in him, too.”

Jon smiled. “Give him my regards and tell him not to be a stranger. Though, if Daniels is still here, maybe I’ll have to be the one visiting.”

“We’d be glad to have you,” Frank said, only realizing afterwards how that sounded. He needed to get a grip.

Jon, helpfully, had a carriage waiting to take Frank to the coach stop in town. Frank breathed a little easier the further they got from the conservatory. He hoped Daniels wouldn’t cause problems for anyone. Well. Once he woke up, anyway. He trusted Jon to have things well in hand.

He got on the coach home with a sigh of relief. He’d even be back early, which would please Grant. As the coach lumbered into motion, he settled back into his seat. He’d enjoyed his time at Bowbridge, but he was grateful to be returning. He enjoyed the work, always, but what really made it home was the company.

Frank tried to read, but he found himself entirely too excited about getting home to focus. So he drew his feet up and stared out the window, watching the miles roll by.

* * *

Grant sat at the kitchen table watching birds fight over seeds at the bird feeder. Gerard was watching too. He seemed utterly fascinated by the little creatures and had taken to obsessively drawing birds whenever they could see the feeder.

All too frequently, Grant found his own eyes wandering to the movements of Gerard’s sure, clever hands as he sketched. His notes for his compositions seemed to be half sketches. He had a real talent. Apparently, he had a talent for everything. Grant couldn’t wait to see what skill he would display next.

Though, Grant had to admit that his fascination wasn’t simply an admiration of Gerard’s skill. No, if anything the last few days had cemented that he was foolish to pretend it was. Gerard was beautiful and he was a delight to spend time with. Grant didn’t feel like he’d accomplished anything in a day if he hadn’t made Gerard’s shoulders shake with laughter at least once.

Grant wanted to _hear_ Gerard’s laugh. He was rather desperate for it, actually. He was nearly as desperate to see Frank come back up the lane. They’d set the next day as his time of arrival, though. Grant would try to be patient.

In the meantime, he settled in at the kitchen table with his books. He and Gerard would probably move to the music room later. Grant was mostly making notes, though a few times he’d tried some additional spells. But they were simply to the point that they had to have the book to move forward. So he did more research. And, more often than was probably wise, snuck glances at Gerard. But Gerard… Gerard was glancing back.

Grant smiled at him and tried to go back to his work. The next time it happened he cleared his throat. “Could I interest you in a walk?”

Gerard nodded, tucking his pencil away between the pages of his notebook.

“I have a fairly large property back here,” Grant said as they tugged on cloaks and headed out the kitchen door. “I bought it as soon as I was able,” Grant explained. “I wanted a place that was mine.”

Gerard looked thoughtful. He gestured to the area around them, questioningly; Grant took a guess at his meaning.

“Why so far away from the city?” Gerard nodded. “I love the city, truly. Theater, music, dancing, pubs. But I need the space and the quiet, I find.” Gerard nodded again. “So I visit frequently, keep a small flat there for simplicity’s sake. But this is home.”

Gerard smiled, turning his gaze out past Grant towards the wild tangle of green wood that the path wound through.

“Frank says I need a gardener. I think it adds to my mystique,” Grant chuckled. Gerard nodded and grinned, clearly agreeing with him. “I knew you were a man who appreciated such things,” Grant told him.

Gerard looked amused, then reached for his notebook. _The audience gets all of me, but it’s a different self that stands on stage,_ he scrawled.

“And the queen knows yet another of your selves, I’ll wager,” Grant murmured.

Gerard looked rueful. _No one is themselves at court. Not even the queen._

“Of course,” Grant answered.

He squeezed Gerard’s shoulder and Gerard started writing again. _I feel more myself here than I have in a long time._

Grant couldn’t deny the pleased warmth that spread through him at that. He liked the idea of Gerard feeling at home here. “It’s a compliment to my home,” he replied.

Gerard smiled and reached out to squeeze his hand quickly. They kept walking down the overgrown path. Sometimes, Gerard would point at something: a particular tree, or a view, or a sculpture hidden away in the trees. Grant was glad to tell Gerard the stories of each.

It was the perfect day for a long walk. They rambled all around the property. Even into the woods along the back edge. By the time hunger spurred them back to the house, Grant was feeling far more settled than he had been earlier. Gerard looked happy, too, cheeks flushed pink and hair wild. It was truly a perfect afternoon.

The closer they got to home as they walked back, the more Grant thought of Frank. And not just because he made a better lunch than Grant. He always missed Frank’s presence when he was gone. He would have been leaping off the stone walls like a mountain goat as they walked, and pointing out the little things Grant always missed.

They’d just have to do this again when Frank returned, Grant decided. He dared to hope that there would be many more chances.

“What would you like for lunch?” he said cheerfully as they shed their cloaks at the door. Gerard shrugged at him and Grant laughed. “Helpful.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and waltzed past Grant into the kitchen, heading for the stove.

“Are you cooking then?” Grant asked.

Gerard nodded again and gestured for Grant to sit down at the table.

Grant smiled. “Fine, fine.” It felt very familiar, although usually it was Frank who was shooing Grant out of his way.

Gerard scribbled something and pushed the book at Grant. _Why no servants?_

That brought Grant up short. There was really no reason _not_ to have one or two, but he’d never bothered. “I suppose I never felt the need,” he said.

Gerard tilted his head, clearly sensing that there was more to the answer. Grant thought about it.

“I’ve always been a self-sufficient creature, often to the point of stubbornness. And you know that I have… something of a reputation, and for a long while it was easy to let that reputation do the work of distancing me from all but a few others. Until Frank bullied his way into my life, I didn’t see that changing.”

Gerard’s lips twitched.

Grant smiled. “I hadn’t intended to take an apprentice. He insisted. Wouldn’t take no for an answer and kept coming back.”

Gerard was full-on smiling now, ducking his head a little to hide it.

“Yes, I suppose I’m susceptible to stubbornness.”

Gerard lifted his head and grinned full-on. Grant found himself helplessly smiling back. “It’s unfair that you don’t have your voice. I’m spilling all my secrets,” he laughed.

Grant immediately regretted his words, but Gerard’s smile didn’t falter. _Just wait. You’ll regret wishing I could talk._

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Grant told him.

Gerard laughed soundlessly again and squeezed Grant’s shoulder. He turned back to cooking and Grant looked out the window just in time to see a carriage pull up. “Frank,” Grant said, getting up immediately.

Gerard bobbled a spoon, but quickly recovered and smiled, waving Grant out.

He reached the drive just as Frank hopped down out of the carriage. “You’re early,” Grant said, reaching out to steady him.

“Miss me?” Frank asked, grinning cheekily. Seeing him there, even after so brief a time, made Grant all too aware of how much he _had_ missed him.

“Barely had time to,” Grant replied, but his arm stole around Frank’s shoulders anyway.

Frank squeezed back. “It was really easy to find the book. I don’t think he ever thought he’d be tracked back to Bowbridge.”

“You have it, then?” Grant asked.

“I do,” Frank confirmed.

“You’re not telling me everything,” Grant said.

Frank sighed. “Later.”

“Okay,” Grant agreed and grabbed Frank’s bag as he paid the carriage driver. “I’ve put Gerard to work making lunch,” Grant said as they made their way into the house.

Frank chuckled. “What an amazing houseguest.”

“Earlier, he said he felt more himself here than he had in quite a while. It was rather gratifying,” Grant confided.

Frank’s answering smile left him with no doubt that Frank felt similarly gratified. “It’s a good house,” Frank told him.

“Better, now that you’re back,” Grant said.

They walked into the kitchen. Gerard was stirring a pot of something on the stove, but he grinned when he saw them and waved at Frank.

“I got it,” Frank told him immediately. Gerard’s smile widened and his his shoulders sagged in sheer relief. “Also, Jon is great,” Frank added.

Gerard nodded eagerly, waving the wooden spoon for emphasis.

“I invited him to visit. I sort of hope he does, even though- well. He was great. And I caught one of your friend Toro’s lectures.”

Gerard beamed at him and scrabbled for his notebook, _Isn’t he amazing? He’s the best musician I know._

“I’m glad your venture was so successful,” Grant told him.

“Me too,” Frank said with a glance at Gerard and a small smile. “It was Daniels,” Frank added gently.

Gerard looked sad, but not surprised. He turned back to the stove. Frank glanced at Grant.

Grant gave him a small shrug. “After we eat, we can start work.”

“Back to it,” Frank sighed.

“That’s what happens when you go gallivanting,” Grant teased lightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank replied. “It’s good to be home, though.”

“I’m glad,” Grant told him. He was; more than he could say.

Frank smiled again and sidled up to Gerard, touching his arm and murmuring something. Gerard nodded and took a deep breath. Grant assumed Frank must’ve said something about Daniels. He was glad that the mystery of who had done this to Gerard had been solved, but the knowledge couldn’t be an easy thing for Gerard to bear. Gerard probably liked people to think he had a thick skin, but Grant imagined, as with much about him, it was part of the persona.

Grant stepped forward and squeezed Gerard’s shoulder. “Can we help with the food?” he offered.

Gerard smiled at him gratefully, pointing to the cabinet where they kept the bowls. Grant nodded and set the table. Frank brought the food. Gerard slipped into a seat.

Frank sat down with a happy sigh and grinned at both of them. “It’s good to be back.” He spent most of the meal telling them about his journey.

Gerard looked pleased to hear about the goings-on of Bowbridge, and Grant was charmed when Frank told them about the students who decided to adopt him. Gerard smiled about that too, especially when Frank talked about hoping to see them play in the Capitol as they dreamed.

Gerard nodded eagerly. _Most everyone who attends the conservatory does interesting things. I always look forward to seeing every new batch of recent graduates come to the Capitol._

It was clear that Frank had very much enjoyed his time away. But he seemed as happy as ever to be back here. Grant was selfishly pleased.

They ate quickly, all anxious to get the book in the workshop. Grant could feel its power tickling his aura from where it was in Frank’s luggage. Whoever performed the spell was a formidable mage.

Soon enough, their bowls were empty, and Frank started gathering dishes. “Leave them,” Grant suggested.

Frank threw a smile over his shoulder at Grant and did as Grant suggested. “Let’s get to work,” he said.

They walked out to the workshop together. Grant immediately set to work preparing a protective circle in which they could hold the curse. He used every charm and rune he thought might help, and a few extra for good measure.

Frank gingerly unwrapped the handkerchief around the book and placed it in the center of the circle. It was a beautifully crafted cover. Sure to catch the eye and invite opening. He could feel Gerard tensing up beside him. Grant set a hand on his shoulder briefly. Gerard took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He sat in a chair out of the way so Frank and Grant could work.

Even with the protective cage of spells, Grant could still feel the power of the curse as he held his hand over the book.

“It’s contained,” Frank murmured. “Did you ever hear from Warren?”

“Not yet,” Grant replied. “Hopefully soon. If not, we’ll head for Ben Gowdie anyway.”

“Joy,” Frank muttered.

Grant was still studying the book. He couldn’t believe Frank had carried it all this way in a handkerchief. “Were the resonances this strong before?” he asked.

Frank nodded. “I could feel it all the way down the hall. It was so strong I didn’t notice the spell on the door.”

Grant looked at him sharply. “What spell?” he demanded.

“It was just a warning spell on the door,” Frank said, shoulders rounding. “I mean. Luckily. I know it was careless.”

Grant took a breath and let it out. “At least that’s all it was.”

“That does mean Daniels knows someone has the book,” Frank said.

“The wards on this place should prevent its detection,” Grant said. He was confident in them; they’d served him well for many years. “But I’ll bulk them up, just in case.” Without the help of a mage, Daniels himself probably wasn’t much of a threat, Grant told himself. Of course, if he hired the same mage that created this curse, well. That might be difficult. “Would he have known who you were? Who took the book?” Grant asked.

“I gave a false surname and if he saw me at all, it was during dinner, which was generally busy,” Frank replied. Grant forced himself to remember that Frank was more than capable; more capable at this kind of work than Grant himself. “And the list of people who know Gerard is here is pretty short,” Frank added. “And the list of people who know who I am and who I work with is also short.”

Grant exhaled and said, “All right.”

“Whose cursed-object techniques have you been reading up on?” Frank asked.

“Pinelli and Enkidu, mostly,” Grant told him.

Frank nodded. “I think we should add Kensel to the list.”

Grant nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea. Kensel’s methods might be particularly suited to this.”

“I’ll char the herbs,” Frank offered.

Grant nodded absently and grabbed his text on Kensel. He turned and looked at Gerard. “This part is going to be rather tedious, I’m afraid.”

Gerard shrugged. Grant didn’t think he was going anywhere, the way he was staring at the book. Grant knew that eventually he would pull out his sketchbook or fetch a lute and try to do his own thing if he could. For now, the best thing he could to for Gerard would be to throw himself into working on breaking this curse.

He started arranging the mirrors and waited for Frank to finish the herb blend. When Frank was finished, he brought the herbs over to where Grant was standing. Their shoulders pressed together as Frank bent down to arrange the herbs on the table. Grant inhaled, exhaled, reached out to touch Frank’s aura; although he wasn’t sure if that last was meant to be reassuring, or if so, for whom. He felt Frank relax, so maybe it was for both of them.

When the herbs had been spread, and the mirrors arranged in the proper configuration, Grant held his hand over the table and started chanting. He gritted his teeth when his skin started tingling. Frank laced their fingers together and started chanting with him. Grant squeezed Frank’s hand gratefully. He could feel Frank’s magic twining together with his own, forcing back the angry power of the curse.

Smoke started swirling up from the herbs, fogging the mirrors. They kept chanting as the smoke seemed to be sucked directly into the mirrors themselves. Markings began to appear on the surface of each of the mirrors. Grant pulled away from Frank to jot them down.

They both kept chanting as Grant drew the image in each mirror. Once he felt sure he’d reproduced them perfectly, he signaled to Frank, who let his hands drop and spoke the end of the spell. The herbs hissed and crumpled into ash all at once.

Grant took a deep breath, suddenly drained. He knew Frank must be feeling similar. They’d never done this spell for such a powerful curse. He saw Frank sway on his feet a little, and was moving towards him before he could think about it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Gerard had also jumped to his feet.

Grant got there first, slid an arm around Frank’s waist and pulled him close. Frank leaned heavily against him as Gerard crowded up against his other side. “That was intense,” Frank murmured.

“You did very well, Frank,” Grant told him. “You protected me, and kept the spell strong. Thank you.” Frank was so warm, and so _close_. Grant impulsively wrapped his other arm around Frank’s shoulders, tugged his head close and kissed the crown, then rested his chin there for a moment.

Frank pressed against him and Gerard ran his fingers through Frank’s hair. Grant felt Frank shiver. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the spell.

“All right, love?” he asked gently. “Shall we take a breather?”

Frank nodded, his head moving under Grant’s chin. He didn’t move away from either of them. It was Gerard who got them moving, steering them towards the small couch in the corner of the workshop.

Grant guided Frank to sit, but straightened back up even as Gerard perched beside Frank. Frank wouldn’t let him go, though. He tugged Grant’s clothes until he sat down.

“I was going to get you some water,” Grant protested, even as he allowed himself to be arranged to Frank’s liking.

“Stop being dumb,” Frank muttered.

Grant wasn’t sure what Frank meant by that, but he let Frank lean into him anyway. He heard the scratch of Gerard’s pencil.

 _I don’t want either of you to be hurt,_ Gerard wrote, a frown tugging at his mouth.

“We’re fine, Gee,” Frank murmured. “That was just a tiring spell.”

“It was successful, though,” Grant said, gesturing to the table. The mirrors were empty again, but he’d drawn the symbols; they could study them, and figure out what they meant. “Thanks to you,” he added to Frank.

Frank shrugged and smiled. “Both of us.”

Grant huffed. “The results of that spell should give us a good idea of how the curse is constructed, and how it was bound to that book.”

“And how to deconstruct it,” Frank added, reaching out to tap Gerard’s fingers.

“At least a start on deconstruction,” Grant added. “It was a good idea, Frank.”

Frank grinned, finally looking more like himself again. “I’m full of those, you know.”

Grant sighed. “This is how I can tell I taught you,” he replied. “The attitude. Ready for Pinelli?” Frank wrinkled his nose and didn’t move. “Or we can sit a while longer,” Grant said.

Gerard pushed himself up off the couch. _I’ll get you two a snack,_ he wrote quickly.

Grant watched Frank watch Gerard leave. He tightened his arm around Frank’s shoulders.

“I didn’t sleep too well last night,” Frank said after a moment. “That’s probably why.”

“We can push Pinelli and Enkidu off until tomorrow, get you some rest,” Grant offered.

“Enkidu tomorrow,” Frank said. “Gimme a bit and I’ll be good for Pinelli.”

Grant nodded; Pinelli was, by far, the least taxing of the two. And with the results they already had from Kensel’s scrying spell, Pinelli would give them plenty to start researching.

Gerard came back in with a plate of cheese and fruit, looking at them questioningly. “We’ve a plan for the afternoon,” Grant told him as he sat down with the plate. Frank took it from him so Grant could reach.

Gerard nodded, looking relieved. _Can I stay?_ he wrote.

“If you like,” Grant replied. “It won’t be very interesting.”

 _Don’t care,_ Gerard scribbled. _I like being with you both._

“Then you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Grant told him. He could admit to himself that he wasn’t just talking about Gerard staying in the room.

Gerard smiled slyly and took a slice of apple, leaning back and crunching it between his teeth. He was clearly making himself comfortable. It made Grant smile. Frank caught him at it and squeezed his wrist. They both took some fruit and cheese and ate quietly.

It was as companionable as any of the meals they’d shared since Gerard had come to stay here, but something about it felt different. Probably the way they were sitting. Gerard was leaning on Frank’s shoulder, getting his hand smacked when he kept rearranging the plate. Frank was tucked against Grant’s side like be belonged there. It was…warm. Comfortable.

It was easy to imagine this becoming the new normal. Gerard could have the back parlor for his permanent workspace, Grant mused, indulging himself in the flight of fancy. Or perhaps they could expand the house and build a new space altogether.

How silly. Gerard wasn’t precisely a stray cat. Not that Grant had ever fantasized about building new additions onto the house for any of the cats.

Grant took a few more apple slices, kissed Frank’s temple, and got up to prepare the spell. Frank joined him a few moments later.

“You’re preparing the crystals for this one, dear,” he murmured.

“Of course,” Grant replied and got them, and the bowl they would go in, out of a cupboard.

Frank had pulled out the Pinelli text and was frowning to himself, biting his lip in that way that Grant had always found utterly enchanting.

“Take the lead on this one,” Grant urged him quietly.

Frank nodded and started organizing the materials that weren’t the crystals, muttering to himself as he went. Grant chuckled to himself quietly. When he shot a quick look over at the couch by the window, he saw Gerard watching them with a small smile on his face, chin propped up on his hand. Grant crossed his arms over his chest and smiled back.

Gerard winked at him. Or tried. He wasn’t very good at winking. Grant laughed and turned back to his work. Frank was looking at him questioningly; Grant just shook his head, smiling.

Frank scowled, unconvincingly, and handed him a compass. “Start setting the crystals.”

Grant did as he was told, laying out the crystals precisely. When he was done, he got out the chalk to draw the circle. This wasn’t a complex spell, but he still took care with the details. It was a bit meditative, as always.

When everything was prepared, they both stepped into the circle. Grant reached for Frank’s hand. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Frank tangled their fingers together and squeezed. He started chanting the spell, and Grant channeled magic into the words.

The power rose around them, funneled and amplified through the crystals. They were the reason this spell wasn’t as taxing and Grant was grateful for them. He could feel the spell resonating with the powerful magic in the book.

Even as he concentrated, he could feel it reacting, twisting like a wire. Frank continued speaking the spell until it felt like their hair should be standing on end, until the power in the air felt like it might snap. And it might have, if Frank had wavered. But his voice stayed strong and steady, and he held tight to Grant’s hand. This one resonated so strongly with the book that it was hard to imagine Enkidu would be any better.

Frank stopped and the crystals glittered and spun until they were pointing in the direction of some of the ingredients they’d set out. Frank waited for a few more moments for the magic to settle. When Grant could look away, a glance showed Gerard staring, mouth open.

“If you like that, you’ll love Enkidu,” Grant joked.

“Tomorrow,” Frank added, laughing. “I think if we did Enkidu tonight I would pass out.” Gerard’s eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. Frank grinned. “Aw, that’s sweet, Gee. I’ll be fine. Though, I may go to bed straightaway after dinner,” Frank said.

“Whatever you need to do,” Grant told him. “And I’ll cook. Sorry,” he added with a laugh.

Frank smiled. “That would be nice. I kind of just want to sit down for a million years.”

Grant shooed him back over to the couch. “I’ll write down the results of the spell.”

He watched Frank sit and Gerard immediately shuffle closer. Grant smiled as Frank leaned heavily against Gerard and Gerard wrapped an arm around Frank, supporting him.

Grant kept an eye on them as he made his notes. It was unlike Frank to accept help from anyone… except Grant, of course. He seemed just as comfortable with Gerard as Grant felt. And Gerard had a small, warm smile on his face, like he was comfortable, too. Like he was happy to be here with the two of them, despite the circumstances that had brought him here. Grant didn’t know if there was anyone who could resist Frank, though. Gerard wasn’t even making an effort. Grant realized that despite generally fearing that Frank would leave him for greener pastures, he didn’t feel like that about Frank’s relationship with Gerard. It was…freeing.

He caught Gerard looking at him, still with that little smile. Grant wanted to taste it. Oh. Well, of course. Why make things simple.

But maybe they didn’t need simple. Simple was boring. This, whatever it was… this was shaping up to be just as complex as the spell that had stolen Gerard’s voice. That puzzle had a six-week window for solutions. How long did this one have?

He supposed they’d find out soon enough. He hoped they would, anyway.

Grant forced himself to turn to the circle and reach for his notebook. Nothing had proven so distracting in years as Gerard…as the two of them. He couldn’t bring himself to mind much. Though, Gerard might appreciate him less distracted and working on breaking his curse.

He would. _They_ would. But first, the best dinner he could muster, for Frank. Well, and finishing these notes.

When he was done, he put everything away and they all went out to the kitchen while Grant cooked. Gerard and Frank settled at the table. Gerard had his notebook, as ever, but he seemed to be sketching something rather than writing. When Frank was quiet for a while, Grant snuck a glance and found him dozing, leaning back against the wall. He smiled, and was glad dinner was ready to put on the table.

Frank roused as soon as Grant put the platter down, blinking. “Ugh,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes. Grant served them all and the meal progressed from there. They ate quietly, Frank clearly too tired to make conversation and Gerard was still voiceless. When his plate was almost empty, Frank’s blinking grew longer.

“To bed with you, my darling,” Grant murmured, touching the back of Frank’s hand.

Frank frowned, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “Yeah, okay.” He said goodnight and trudged upstairs.

When Grant looked back at Gerard, he was smiling faintly and tapping a word in his book. _Darling?_

Grant felt his cheeks get a bit warm. “Do you deny that he is?” he asked after a beat.

Gerard looked steadily at Grant. Whatever he saw on Grant’s face must have settled something for him, because he shook his head, that same smile from before twitching at his lips. He flipped back a page in his notebook and turned it towards Grant, who realized that this must be what Gerard had been drawing while he had been preparing dinner. It was him and Frank, as they must have looked to Gerard when they had been spellcasting earlier.

“Gorgeous,” Grant told him. Gerard raised his brows and nodded slowly, emphatically.

Grant reached out to cup Gerard’s cheek. This time, there was no immediate regret. “So are you,” he murmured.

Gerard leaned into the touch, eyes closing briefly. Grant was arrested all over again by how lovely he was. When he opened his eyes, he smiled again. Slower, more tentative. Grant smiled back and let his thumb brush over Gerard’s cheek bone before he pulled his hand away.

“I’m going to go sort out the results from this afternoon’s spells,” Grant said softly. “You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like.” Gerard nodded, then mimed himself playing an instrument. “Yes, I’d love that more than I can say,” Grant smiled.

Gerard beamed at him and disappeared from the room. Grant made quick work of the washing up, made sure the cats had food in their bowls, and went back to the workshop. He spent a few minutes putting away spell ingredients and setting things to rights after their work that afternoon. By the time Gerard returned, Grant was settled in at his desk, a stack of books piled beside him.

Gerard had a mandolin. He pulled a chair closer to the wood stove, tuned carefully, and started playing a lilting, unfamiliar melody. Grant immediately guessed that it was part of his new composition. It was the perfect song to work to and Grant set about sorting out their notes.

He let the music wrap around him as he scratched out notes and paged through dusty books. Every once in a while he just closed his eyes and listened. He enjoyed it when Gerard clearly didn’t like something he played and went back to make changes, then played through the section again. It was like a window into his mind. He very much looked forward to being able to hear the words that he knew were meant to accompany the piece.

Often when he opened his eyes, or simply looked up from his notes, Gerard’s eyes were on him. Grant always gave him a smile and every time Gerard sent one back. Grant still had no idea what they were doing, or what shape it was going to take. But he was certainly enjoying whatever this was.

His mind started wandering before he ran out of notes to review, but he forced himself to finish, then closed the book decisively. Gerard raised an eyebrow at him. “All done,” Grant said.

He stacked his books and carefully put his notes away; Frank had him well-trained. Gerard went back to playing, just idle, soft chords.

Grant made his way toward Gerard and sank down on the sofa next to him. Gerard kept strumming, but he let himself lean into Grant a little. Grant leaned back. He propped his arm on the back of the sofa, touching his fingertips to a flyaway piece of Gerard’s hair.

Gerard kept playing, eyes slipping closed. Grant took that as an invitation to slide his fingers into Gerard’s hair. Gerard pushed into the touch, just as he had earlier when Grant had cupped his cheek. Grant breathed out in a puff.

“You were right about that bit you redid,” Grant murmured. “It sounded good the first way, but it’s sublime the way you rewrote it.”

Gerard didn’t open his eyes, but his smile stretched across his face. Gerard had a lovely smile. It was different from Frank’s—slyer, somehow—but equally compelling.

“You don’t really need me to tell you that, do you?” Grant asked, amused.

Gerard’s smile widened and his eyes popped open. _No,_ he mouthed and reached for his notebook. _But I like hearing it all the same,_ he wrote.

Grant chuckled. “You’d like some more compliments then, love?” he murmured.

 _I always like compliments,_ Gerard wrote.

Grant tugged gently on Gerard’s hair, still tangled in his fingers. “What kind do you want?” he asked. “I bet you’re greedy and want all kinds.”

Gerard nodded. He seemed perfectly content beneath Grant’s hands, eyes slitted like a cat’s. Gods, but Grant wanted to see how Gerard would react if he moved his hands elsewhere.

“You’re so charming,” Grant told him in a low voice. “You change every room you walk into.” Gerard breathed out through his nose. “Even without your voice, you command attention. I can see how easy it is for you to get lost in your own head. But you’re thoughtful, too. You want to make others happy. And you’re beautiful,” he finished. “So very.”

He saw Gerard swallow and take a deep breath. Gerard pulled away for a moment, but only to put his mandolin aside. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then closed it again, looking frustrated at himself.

Grant slid his notebook into his hands, but Gerard shook his head and leaned against Grant. Grant wrapped an arm around his waist, just holding him. Gerard relaxed into him, tucking his face against Grant’s neck.

They were on the cusp of something. Something important and affirming. Grant was both eager for it to happen and content to wait and watch at the same time.

* * *

Gerard closed the door to his room behind him with a quiet _click_ , and just leaned against it for a moment. He felt warm all over. Grant was… he was so wonderful. Gerard had never in a million years expected this when he was looking for the right mage to go to for his curse.

Well, mages. He smiled when he thought of Frank, who was just as lovely as Grant was. It made such a difference, knowing there was someone he could, quite literally, lean on. Someones. Both of them had been rather… free with physical affection since Frank returned just before lunch. It felt as though something had shifted. Before Frank’s departure, Gerard had been… aware of them, but unsure of where things stood between them, and of his own place.

He wasn’t any more certain of the first, but making sense of the second by the minute. He thought that perhaps Frank and Grant weren’t sure of their places with each other, either. It was oddly comforting. They loved each other, though; that was obvious. Though apparently it wasn’t obvious to _them_.

If only he had his voice, he could help. Maybe he could anyway. He could come up with a plan. Maybe, _probably_ , it was ridiculous to even consider. But Gerard couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be something good.

Even if he only helped them find one another, it would be more than earned for what they were doing for him.

He changed into his pajamas and crawled in bed. Yes, he thought. He would come up with something.

The next morning he rose early, as he had quickly become accustomed to doing in this house. When he stumbled down to the kitchen, he found Frank already there, standing in front of the coffee pot, clearly waiting for it to finish brewing.

Frank looked over at the sound of footsteps. “Good morning,” he said with a smile. He looked much better this morning. His eyes no longer looked bruised.

Gerard moved before he could second guess himself, and let his own momentum carry him over to stand beside Frank, pressing their shoulders together.

“Don’t worry,” Frank rasped. “I’m feeling much better.”

Gerard squeezed his hand and hoped Frank realized it meant, “I’m glad.”

Frank poured, and went to sit. Gerard followed him. Touched his wrist. Frank beamed up at him and pulled the other chair closer to him for Gerard to sit in. Gerard sank down in it so their knees were touching. He smiled hopefully at Frank, who laughed.

“If I’ve got to do all the talking, I need this coffee.”

 _Just you wait,_ Gerard wrote.

“Looking forward to it,” Frank said. His eyes were warm.

Gerard kept up with the closeness as they drank their coffee, hoping to– test the waters? Get a reaction? Whatever it was, it felt good. Frank seemed just as amenable to Gerard as Grant had the night before. They sat together in companionable silence. Frank smiled whenever Gerard looked up at him.

Finally, Gerard got to a point that he was going to kiss Frank if he sat there another moment, so he got up and started poking in the larder and the pantry to see if he could come up with anything for breakfast. He found some oats and dried apples, so he set a pot of water going on the stove.

“You don’t have to,” Frank protested from behind him. Right behind him. Gerard huffed and smiled. “Okay, okay,” Frank said, but didn’t move away. Gerard wasn’t inclined to make him. “Grant has a sweet tooth,” Frank murmured, reaching past Gerard to fetch a honeypot and a few tins of spices.

Gerard nodded and Frank drizzled honey into the pot and measured out the spices. He stayed close. He wasn’t exactly pressed up against Gerard, but they kept brushing past each other. Gerard wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or flirtatious, but it worked well enough as both.

They got the porridge sorted just as Grant came into the kitchen. “Good morning,” he said with a soft smile on his face.

Gerard walked over to the coffee pot and poured Grant a cup, offering it with a smile of his own.

Grant pushed a strand of hair out of Gerard’s face. “Thank you. Are you watching today, Gerard?”

Gerard nodded. He couldn’t not. They were utterly captivating when they worked.

“Good,” Grant said, clearly pleased. He touched Gerard’s shoulder lingeringly on his way to sit down. Frank carried the pot over to the table and took his seat next to Grant.

Gerard thought back to his last relationship. He was pretty sure even on their best days, mornings weren’t this comfortable. Or, well, _loving_. But there was something about this house. Something about Frank and Grant. Gerard had to laugh at himself, because he really was half in love with both of them already, and it wouldn’t take much at all for him to fall completely.

He hoped it was more than just a white-knight admiration. He honestly didn’t think it was, but he knew he needed to be sure. He had the time. He was sure they’d let him stay until the Centennial, no matter what. He was fairly certain they’d all be traveling soon. At least, that’s what the talk of the dwarves implied.

He had work to do, of course; his piece wasn’t anywhere near ready for performance, even without the small matter of his missing voice. Watching them work was a distraction, yes, but Gerard felt it was a necessary one. He could concentrate better on his own projects knowing theirs were going well. And both of them often had interesting perspectives on his work. He’d changed more than one measure because Frank had been humming along with him and had gone to a different note than Gerard had played.

Frank dropped his spoon into his bowl with a _clank_ and sighed happily. “The food at Bowbridge was good and all, but nothing beats what comes from this kitchen.”

Gerard smiled. He could tell already what a homebody Frank was, and it was completely endearing.

“Thanks for cooking, Gee,” Frank added.

 _You helped,_ Gerard wrote.

Frank waved a hand, dismissive. Grant laughed. “He’s too modest. It drives me insane.”

Gerard grinned. _I don’t have that problem, though I do like to give credit where it’s due._

Grant rested his chin on his hand and smiled. “Keeping you around will be good for us, I think.”

Gerard raised an eyebrow at him. _Do you,_ he thought.

Grant smiled beatifically back and took a bite of toast. Gerard laughed silently and took a sip of coffee. Frank got up to set another pot of coffee brewing, trailing his fingertips along Gerard’s shoulders. Gerard barely held back the shiver.

Grant caught the expression on his face and raised an eyebrow at him with a smile. Gerard buried his face in his mug to hide whatever his face was doing. He was finding his reserve of self-control pretty damn low. He wanted to kiss them both. More than kiss them both. Not yet. But… maybe soon. Unless he was reading things very, very wrong.

He didn’t think he was. He drank more coffee and tried to keep his hands to himself.

Once breakfast was done, and they’d all had their fill of coffee for now, Grant and Frank started making a plan for the day. Gerard tried to follow along. He heard the word “dwarves” more than once. He huffed out a silent laugh.

“That’s enough out of you,” Frank said.

Gerard affected innocence. _I’ve heard the mountains are lovely this time of year,_ he wrote.

“Oh, they are,” Frank said sourly.

“As lovely as Frank’s smile,” Grant teased. Frank gave Grant a sharp smile, then. The kind that bites. Gerard laughed again.

He got up to sort out the breakfast dishes while they talked. They were discussing who to ask to watch the house. Gerard knew the mountains weren’t far, but the trip would definitely take at least four days. Possibly more, from the sound of it.

Gerard found himself rather looking forward to it. He’d intended to visit the Ben Gowdie, the dwarven kingdom in the mountains, to research his piece anyway. This just wasn’t the way he had intended to arrive. Still, he’d make the most of it. And it would be infinitely more fun with these two as travel companions.

By the time he’d finished with the dishes, Frank and Grant seemed to have settled themselves on another day or two here, then setting out for the mountains to seek help from their contact, Warren, apparently an expert in the sort of runes inscribed on the cursed book’s cover. Gerard would work as much as he could on the bigger instruments while he was still here. He could take a mandolin with him. Perhaps one or two others, depending on their transport. And he’d been meaning to work more on the manuscript, anyway. He’d manage. He might even enjoy it. Only one way to find out, he thought.

The rest of the morning passed in much the same way as the previous afternoon had; Grant and Frank worked, setting up various spells to try and hone in on the nature of the curse.

He saw them argue for the first time, too, not just the playful griping they usually indulged in. It was strange and uncomfortable to witness. Frank finally threw up his hands and snapped, “Fine! If you want the crystals to explode in your face, you do the fucking spell just like that.”

“The way I’ve been doing it for thirty years?” Grant asked, scowling.

Gerard stayed silent and tried to write in his notebook.

“You’ve been _lucky_ and you fucking know it,” Frank retorted. “You’re using unstable harmonics. You’ve said yourself that I’m better at that shit than you are.”

“I say a lot of things!” Grant snapped.

“Well, if you don’t fucking want my input, why am I even here?” Frank snapped back.

Grant opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again, clearly biting back another argument. He took a deep breath. Gerard just stared, willing him to say the right thing. “You’re right,” Grant said finally. “I should listen to you. I know that. But…I care for more than just your opinions as my assistant, Frank.”

Frank took a deep breath of his own, then another. “I know that,” he said, finally. “That’s why I stayed. I had hoped _you_ knew that.”

“You’re so much better than me, in so many ways,” Grant told him. Frank smiled slightly and stepped closer to Grant, taking his hand and squeezing. Gerard bit his lip. “Rework the harmonics for me?” Grant asked, softly.

“Happy to,” Frank murmured, leaning his chin on Grant’s shoulder for a moment.

When he finished working, Grant took his place and Frank came to sit next to Gerard. “Sorry about that,” Frank murmured.

Gerard shook his head, reaching over to take Frank’s hand.

“He knows it’s because I care about him,” Frank added.

Gerard nodded. He knew that too, really.

Frank looked back over at the table, where Grant was muttering to himself. The expression on Frank’s face was so fucking _fond_. Gerard took a chance and reached for his book. _I can tell how much you love him._

Frank didn’t stop smiling, but he shrugged. “Yeah. I do.”

 _And he loves you,_ Gerard wrote, quickly.

Frank shrugged again. Gerard scrawled, _Don’t. I can tell._

Frank looked Gerard in the eye. “I sort of knew? But I’ve never been sure, and if I was wrong…” He didn’t move, just kept watching Grant as he murmured over the crystals.

Gerard touched Frank’s hand again. _You should tell him,_ he wrote.

Frank didn’t respond, but he flicked his eyes back to Grant. Gerard squeezed Frank’s wrist.

Frank bit his lip. “You’re probably right.”

Gerard rolled his eyes. He was totally right, goddammit. Just then, Grant finished the spell, and turned to look at them, eyes warm. Gerard heard Frank’s breath catch. Right, then. Enough was really enough.

He leaned into Frank and looked back at Grant, brows raised. Grant chuckled and moved toward them. “Provocative could probably be your middle name,” he told Gerard.

_It’s Arthur, actually, but I’ll take Provocative._

Gerard was very aware of Frank’s breathing, and didn’t miss the way it was getting a little faster as Grant approached.

“It drives me crazy, hearing half of a conversation,” he murmured to them both.

Frank took a deep breath. “Gerard was just telling me that I should tell you that I love you.”

Gerard was watching Grant, so he saw the way his eyes went wide, the way he sucked in a breath and held it there; the way he looked at Frank like Frank was the only thing. He sank to his knees in front of the couch. “Frank,” he murmured.

“Which,” Frank said. “Is the truth. I do love you. So much.” His voice was steady, but his fingers around Gerard’s wrist were gripping tight.

“Frank.” Grant’s voice wasn’t so steady.

Frank smiled at him a little nervously. “That’s me.”

Grant’s eyes darted to Gerard, then back to Frank. “Darling,” he murmured, reaching out. Frank leaned down immediately so Grant could touch his face. “And I love you,” he finally said.

Gerard and Frank both released the breath they’d been holding at the same time. “Grant,” Frank said, helplessly, and he leaned down to press their lips together.

Gerard watched, fascinated, as Grant’s eyes slipped shut. They were beautiful. More beautiful than anything he’d seen or heard in a long time. Frank’s free hand curved gently around Grant’s skull. He didn’t let go of Gerard, though, and Gerard found himself utterly unwilling to try and extricate himself.

When Grant pulled back, he looked straight at Gerard. “This is your doing.” Gerard shrugged and smiled. Grant laughed. “I thought you said you lacked modesty.”

He looked so _happy_. Gerard couldn’t help himself. _In certain situations,_ he wrote.

Grant smiled and cupped his cheek. “Modest or not, I’m grateful for your interference.”

“Kiss him,” said Frank, softly. Gerard couldn’t help startling, but Frank slid his hand down to tangle their fingers together. “I know you want to,” he added.

Gerard looked between Frank and Grant. He’d expected this, if he was honest. Just…not quite yet. But then, nothing about his stay with Frank and Grant had been what he’d expected.

Frank leaned in closer. “Not romantic enough for you?” he whispered in Gerard’s ear.

Gerard wanted to say they’d used up all the romance in the world and that he didn’t need it, but he couldn’t, so he huffed out a breath through his nose.

Grant laughed again, soft, and leaned in. Gerard accepted the kiss. Accepted and happily returned. When Grant pulled back, Gerard grinned at him.

“My turn,” Frank declared, hand sliding under Gerard’s chin. Gerard shivered happily. Frank’s determined eyes were gorgeous. Mesmerizing. He swallowed hard and then Frank’s lips were on his.

Frank kissed like it was everything, and Gerard had to tangle his fingers in Frank’s hair to keep himself from utterly drowning in it. He didn’t want to keep control of himself, though. Not one bit. Particularly not when Grant’s hand squeezed his waist and he whispered, “Gorgeous. Both of you,” in his ear.

Gerard was, by now, used to being frustrated by his missing voice. But it wasn’t hard to show them what he was thinking. He found a bit of Grant’s jumper and tugged up, not letting go until Grant was propping his knee on the cushion between their thighs.

Grant chuckled low in his ear. “Perhaps there’s somewhere we could go that would be somewhat more accommodating to the three of us?”

“That what you want, Gee?” Frank asked. He was biting his lower lip again. It was fucking adorable. Gerard nodded, swaying in a little to lick that abused lip.

“Stunning,” Grant said and tugged Gerard’s sleeve. He stood, and Gerard let Grant tug him up. Frank still had Gerard’s other hand in a tight grip, and Gerard pulled him up, too. And steered him to Grant, because he really wanted to watch Grant lean down to kiss him again.

Grant obliged, letting go of Gerard to cup his cheeks and lean down. Frank wrapped his arms around Grant’s waist and practically melted into him. They were so gorgeous together it utterly stole Gerard’s breath.

 _This is how I want you,_ he wrote messily. _Together, you’re like a harmonic. A chord._

When Frank finally pulled away and read it, he smiled. “You’re always composing.”

Gerard smiled. It was true, really. Grant leaned close to kiss his cheek and then lead them out the door and up the stairs. Their progress was halted some when Frank pinned Gerard against the wall in the stairwell and stuck his tongue in Gerard’s mouth.

Gerard would give his last breath to be able to groan the way he wanted to, because Frank was like a crackle of lightning against him. Instead, he sunk his fingers into Frank’s hair and kissed him back with as much passion as he could muster.

“Gorgeous,” Grant murmured. His lips were very, very close to Gerard’s ear.

“He keeps saying that,” Frank laughed against Gerard’s lips.

 _He’s right,_ Gerard thought. All three of them were.

“Come on,” Grant said, curving a hand around Gerard’s waist. Gerard gave him a reproachful look—it wasn’t his fault he’d been backed up against a wall, was it? Grant laughed. Gods, Gerard loved that laugh.

He let himself be tugged up the rest of the stairs and into Grant’s room. He hadn’t ever been in here before—his own room was on the opposite end of the corridor. But rather than taking any time to look around, Gerard let momentum carry him into Grant’s arms again.

Grant curled down around him just as Frank wrapped around Grant’s back. Gerard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This felt right. More right than anything had felt since the first time he performed for the queen. He’d left his notebook down in the workshop, but he didn’t think it was going to be a problem.

Grant kissed his neck, slowly, deliberately. Like it was something he’d been picturing or planning. Gerard bit his lip and tilted his head to the side. His eyes slipped shut, only to fly open again when Grant’s teeth scraped the hollow of his throat. The touch was achingly gentle, but Gerard felt as though he’d been set aflame.

The tip of Grant’s tongue traced over the same spot. “Provocative,” he murmured again, voice gone gravelly. Gerard felt movement against his chest and realized that Frank had slipped his hands under Grant’s shirt and was tracing the lines of his torso. They were pressed together so closely that Gerard could feel it too.

He wanted to moan, to tell them how good they were making him feel. Instead, he reached up to slide his hands over Grant’s forearms.

“Is this…?” Grant started to ask. Gerard pressed his fingers to Grant’s mouth and telegraphed a nod. Grant smiled and nipped the pad of Gerard’s finger.

Gerard took his hand away and leaned in for another kiss. When Grant gasped into Gerard’s mouth, Gerard pulled back again to see what Frank was doing.

He had a hand wrapped around Grant’s neck and was mouthing at the side. Gerard couldn’t take his eyes off Frank’s lips, how they looked against the pale skin of Grant’s neck. Frank chuckled, low, and moved in to claim another kiss from Grant.

Gerard felt like everything went into slow motion when he watched them. He loved it. Loved every long second of it. He wanted to watch them forever. He also wanted to slip his hands under the hem of Frank’s shirt, seeking out his skin. When he did just that, Frank shuddered.

“I’ve been watching your hands every day,” Frank muttered, shoulders slumping happily as Gerard traced higher up his back. Gerard smiled and kissed the spot just behind his ear.

“I want to see you. Both of you,” Grant told them. Frank grinned, reaching down for the hem of his shirt. Gerard helped him along, because he was right there. And because he wanted the same thing.

When they got the shirt off, Gerard ran his hands over Frank’s bare chest, over the ink of the tattoos he uncovered.

Grant sucked in a breath. “Frank,” he murmured, reverently. “Every day, for how long? And you, and this…”

“So long,” Frank whispered. “You’re why I stayed. Why I keep staying.”

“I love you,” Grant said, like it was being torn out of him. Gerard felt so fucking lucky that they were letting him see this. He reached out to touch one of the lines of ink curving down Frank’s shoulder.

Frank reached up a hand to clutch Gerard’s and leaned in to kiss Grant hard, full of so much passion, Gerard could barely breathe. The two of them were utterly lit up with how much they loved each other. And yet, Frank was still not letting go of Gerard.

When Frank finally pulled back from Grant, he reached for the hem of Grant’s jumper and tugged it up over his head. Grant was flushed and panting slightly, lips shiny from kissing them. What a nice surprise; he was well fit under his fine but well-worn clothing. Gerard moved closer and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“You’re behind, love,” Grant told him. Gerard smiled when he felt Frank’s busy hands at the hem of his own shirt. He obligingly lifted his arms, allowing Frank to tug it up and off. He knew he was striking like this, pale bare skin and black hair, and he allowed himself a pose.

Grant gripped his waist and pulled him close. His hands were warm, so warm. Gerard slid his own up Grant’s chest and around his neck.

“Fuck,” Frank said, wonderingly.

Grant kissed the exact opposite of Frank. Lazy, coaxing. Gerard didn’t need coaxing, but he liked how it felt.

“We’re never gonna make it to the bed, are we,” Frank asked, sounding long-suffering.

“Must we?” Grant murmured, hands sweeping slowly up and down Gerard’s spine.

“I mean, it might be more comfortable,” Frank said. “And if you keep kissing Gerard like that, he’s not going to be able to stand anymore.”

Gerard couldn’t exactly deny it; his knees felt like jelly as it was. He met Grant’s eyes and smirked. Grant laughed. “All right, that’s enough from you.”

He playfully manhandled Gerard toward the bed. Frank helpfully reached for the button of his trousers. They worked seamlessly together here, as they did in the workshop, and Gerard quickly found himself bare and spread out on Grant’s sheets. He grinned. Looking between the two of them, he waved a hand in a “carry on” gesture.

Frank giggled and reached for Grant. “I fucking love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Grant’s cheek. “I have for years. I think I was a little in love with you when I was trying to get you to take me on as an apprentice.”

Grant ran a hand through Frank’s hair. “I know when I knew for sure.”

“When?” Frank asked.

“When I asked you to stay and you asked for a few days to decide,” Grant replied. “I’d never been more anxious in my life and it took me a day to work out why.”

“I was always going to say yes,” Frank promised, catching Grant’s hand with his own.

Gerard smiled. Finally.

Grant kissed Frank swift and hard. “We should have had this discussion sooner.”

Frank moaned his agreement into Grant’s mouth. Gerard gave himself a few lazy strokes. When they pulled apart, Grant looked at Gerard and chuckled. “Time for us to join you?”

Gerard stroked himself again, deliberately, giving them a grin. Frank shoved off the rest of his clothing and jumped in, jostling the mattress. Gerard would have laughed if he could. Instead, he caught Frank around the waist and pulled him against his body.

Frank kissed him, biting at his lower lip and laughing at the way it made Gerard arch. “You started it,” he murmured.

Gerard nodded and smirked, then sighed happily when Grant slid onto the bed next to them. He was naked, too, and he slid one of his hands up Gerard’s thigh. “Well, here we are,” he murmured, kissing Gerard’s neck. Gerard tilted his head for Grant and Frank took the opportunity to kiss him again. Like this, spread out with both of them pressing against him, everything was even more overwhelming. He wanted to tell them all about it, but he couldn’t. He kissed back, hands on Grant’s shoulder and side.

Frank kissed like he wanted nothing else in the world. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wanted Grant. Gerard was okay with that. He still couldn’t believe he was here.

When Frank stopped kissing him, he leaned up to kiss Grant again. Grant wrapped a hand in Frank’s hair to pull him close. It pulled him halfway over top of Gerard, but he didn’t mind. He let his hand wander down the curve of Frank’s ass.

He felt Frank moan in his chest, felt how hard Frank was against his hip. Gerard couldn’t tell them how they were making him feel, but he could _show_ them. He moved down, tipped Frank back onto his side and squirmed until he could bracket Frank’s hips with his hands.

“Gee,” Frank breathed and reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear.

Gerard smiled at him, and then up at Grant, whose eyes were hot and heavy-lidded.

“Do it,” Grant urged.

Gerard moved to wrap a hand around the base of Frank’s cock and kissed his hip. Frank cupped a hand around the curve of Gerard’s skull. “Yeah,” he murmured.

Gerard licked his lips, then closed them around Frank’s cock. He’d make a happy noise if he could. Frank moaned loud. Gerard looked up to see Grant stroking a hand over his chest.

“I’ve wanted this,” Grant murmured, bending his head to mouth at Frank’s nipple. “Wanted to see what you’d look like, lost in pleasure.”

“Like… me,” Frank gasped, arching up into both of them, stomach muscles quivering.

“You’re stunning,” Grant told him.

Gerard hummed. It was soundless, but apparently Frank could _feel_ it just fine, because he gasped, hips kicking. Gerard rubbed his hips soothingly and started sucking, letting his eyes slip closed even though he didn’t really want to. He couldn’t give Frank’s cock his full attention if he kept getting distracted by looking at Frank and Grant. And Frank deserved his full attention right now. So he kept his eyes closed and his mouth moving, and listened to Grant and Frank whisper to one another—and to him.

Gerard swallowed around Frank’s cock, and that elicited a strangled moan and the tightening of fingers in Gerard’s hair. Warmth pooled low in Gerard’s belly. He knew he was good at this, but Frank was gorgeous in his appreciation; the noises he made, the way his hands felt. Gerard used his free hand to draw Frank closer in.

His ears were full of their noises, of his own shallow breaths. Of Grant’s voice breaking on Frank’s name when Frank closed a hand around his cock.

Gerard kept sucking, lips meeting the top of his fist over and over. “Gerard,” Frank warned, voice shaking. He ignored it. He wanted to taste everything.

A moment later, Frank thrust up hard, moaning, and Gerard got to taste him fully. Moments after that there were hands scrabbling at his shoulders, tugging him up. He finally opened his eyes.

It was Grant, sweaty and dark-eyed, crushing their mouths together. Gerard kissed back, relished how Grant’s tongue felt sweeping through his mouth.

When Grant moaned, Gerard knew that Frank had taken him in hand again. He nipped Grant’s lower lip and reached down. He tangled his fingers with Frank’s and they started stroking together.

If Gerard couldn’t speak, Frank and Grant were gratifyingly vocal. It wasn’t great prose, but it sounded like poetry to Gerard’s ears.

Frank stole kisses from both of them as often as he could. “Fuck,” Grant gasped, and Gerard felt his hips kick. He was close. “Oh, fuck.”

Gerard sucked at the side of his neck, gently, and moved his hand with Frank until he felt Grant come. Grant moaned into Frank’s mouth and his hips kept working for a few moments until Frank and Gerard took their hands off him.

Gerard’s skin was humming with his own arousal. He squirmed helplessly, not knowing what he’d ask for even if he could. Luckily for him, Frank and Grant seemed to have a good idea of what they wanted to do with him. Grant moved, leaning his back against the headboard and pulling Gerard between his legs.

Gerard gasped soundlessly when Frank started kissing his thighs. Grant murmured calming things in his ear. Except Grant’s lips and his voice were winding Gerard up in other ways. And then there was Frank, sly fingers and a wicked grin. Wicked tongue, too. Wicked everything.

Gerard grabbed one of Grant’s hands and laced their fingers together. Just in time for Frank to take Gerard in his mouth. It was so, so good. And Gerard was an expert at using his mouth. Frank was making him see stars.

He bit his lip and tightened his fingers in Grant’s. Grant’s lips brushed against Gerard’s ear. “So expressive,” he murmured, voice husky. “So beautiful like this, coming undone. For us.”

Gerard arched his back, tipping his head back against Grant’s shoulder. He needed to be touched, held down. Grant seemed to get the message, wrapping one arm tightly over Gerard’s chest, and drawing their joined hands up so Grant could kiss Gerard’s knuckles.

Gerard let his head fall back against Grant’s shoulder. He could feel his eyes trying to slip closed against the torrent of sensation, but he refused to give up the sight of Frank: Frank and his wet pink mouth stretched wide, brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

Gerard sucked in a deep breath and Grant whispered praise in his ear. Gerard reached out and slid his fingers into Frank’s hair. That got a moan out of Frank, and Gerard gasped and arched up at the way it felt.

Gerard stroked Frank’s hair, and Grant teased the shell of Gerard’s ear with his tongue before Gerard turned to kiss him. He was so close and he wanted to wait, to savor it almost as much as he wanted to come.

“Gorgeous,” Grant whispered. “Both of you. Come for us, Gerard. Let us see you.”

Frank traced back over Gerard’s hole with his finger, flicking his tongue in between bobs of his head. Gerard arched up, tightening his fingers in Frank’s hair and around Grant’s hand and came: moaned soundlessly, writhed and gasped, and he _wanted_ so desperately to have his voice back so he could tell them everything that was in his heart. He could feel Frank licking him clean. Grant’s arms were tight around him. He felt safe, warm, and as complete as he’d felt in a long time. Yet….

He panted as Frank kissed his way up Gerard’s belly, up his chest, to his lips. Frank kissed him, and Gerard had to tighten his hand in Frank’s hair a little to hold him there so Gerard could lick his own taste from Frank’s mouth. Frank whimpered a little, softly, every time Gerard’s fingers flexed. Gerard smiled against Frank’s lips and tugged that information away for later.

When they finally broke apart, Grant pulled Frank to him. “Darling, just watching you…”

Frank smiled and reached up to cup Grant’s cheek. “Same,” he murmured.

“And you,” Grant murmured, turning to kiss Gerard’s temple. “You’re the bravest of us.”

 _I trust you,_ Gerard thought. He felt boneless and happy. He was glad of Grant’s solid body behind him.

After a few more minutes of kisses, Frank got up and slipped out the bedroom door, returning a moment later with a warm, wet cloth. It was mostly Grant who needed the attention, and Frank’s eyes shone with pleasure that he could give it to him. Gerard just huddled close. He was still feeling loopy and off-balance and delighted.

When Frank finally came back after slipping out again, it was his turn to settle into Grant’s arms. Gerard didn’t begrudge him the pleasure one bit. And anyway, they were both touching him; Frank’s hand on his hip, Grant a warm presence all along his side.

“When’s round two?” Frank mumbled. He sounded sleepy, though.

Grant chuckled low. “As soon as we’re up for it. As it were.”

“Love you,” Frank said, drowsy. His fingertips traced lazy patterns on Gerard’s skin, and Gerard shivered pleasurably. He was starting to think those would be the first words out of his mouth when his voice was restored, and he wasn’t nearly as apprehensive about that as he thought he should be. He’d always been quick to fall for people, but this was something else. Something more.

If Grant and Frank could figure themselves out, they could figure out this curse. Gerard was sure of it. And he was more impatient every day. For very different reasons.

* * *

Frank woke slowly, feeling a little like he was swimming out from a fogbank—sleeping during the day usually had that effect on him. Waking in Grant’s bedroom was just about enough to convince him he was still dreaming. But then he realized that Gerard’s face was pressed against his arm and he was drooling. He was pretty sure if he was dreaming, there wouldn’t be drool.

Fuck. He’d really– they’d– Frank had to bury his own face in Grant’s chest for a moment and grin. It was all because of Gerard.

He took a deep breath, taking in Grant’s scent. He hadn’t expected anything like this when he woke up. Or, well. After last night, and the way Gerard’s time with them had been going… maybe he’d expected _something_ like this. He’d always hoped against hope that Grant returned his feelings.

It was so crazy that he _did._ That this was real. He smiled and kissed Grant’s chest, then lifted his head to look at Grant’s face.

Grant was looking back at him, eyes just open, a small smile on his face. He tightened his arms around Frank and murmured, “Hello.”

“Hi,” Frank whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” Grant whispered back. Frank leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you,” he murmured against Grant’s lips. “I’m sorry it took me so long to fucking say it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Grant said. “It took me just as long.”

Frank smiled at him and looked down at Gerard’s still sleeping face. “I got the feeling he was tired of dealing with our bullshit,” Frank says softly. “Thank fuck.”

“Skald Way knows what he wants, and how to get it,” Grant murmured back.

Frank kissed Gerard’s forehead. “That’s pretty obvious.”

Gerard frowned a little, face scrunching up, and Frank got the feeling he’d be grumbling if he weren’t being magically silenced. “You’d better not be complaining,” Frank said. “I was about to get up and make coffee.”

Gerard’s lips quirked into a smile and he opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Frank said, grinning at him and darting down for a kiss. He laughed when Gerard grabbed him so he couldn’t dart away again. Gerard’s tongue slid over his bottom lip and into Frank’s mouth. He was slow and thorough.

Frank could feel Grant’s appreciative hum. He could feel Grant’s lips, too, gently brushing the back of his neck.

Gerard finally let Frank pull back, but only to lean up to claim a kiss from Grant. Grant wrapped a careful hand around the curve of Gerard’s skull and kissed back. They were gorgeous together. Frank thought maybe it was strange, that he wasn’t more possessive. But he just wanted to watch them. He’d watch them do anything, but especially this.

When they pulled apart, Gerard eyed him. Grant laughed. “I think he’s wondering where his coffee is.”

Gerard nodded. Frank smiled at him. “I like your translator.” Gerard smiled at him again and gave him a gentle shove. Frank laughed. “Okay, okay.”

He rolled out of bed and stretched, feeling the looseness of his muscles. He felt better than he had in ages- especially when he saw Grant and Gerard’s expressions. He couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy their obvious appreciation. He smirked and reached for Grant’s robe on the hook by the door. It was too long, but it smelled like Grant.

Grant made a noise when Frank tugged it on. Frank stopped, hands still on the ties, and raised an eyebrow. Grant waved a hand. “Apparently I like it when you wear my clothes.”

Frank grinned at him. “Good to know.”

He couldn’t contain the smiles, the way his stomach felt warm and light. He pulled himself out the door and toward the kitchen with one last look over his shoulder.

He set the kettle going and leaned against the counter, waiting for the other two to appear. They came down together, looking relaxed and disheveled. Grant moved to his side immediately and wrapped his arm around Frank’s waist.

“Frank,” he murmured.

“Did you miss me?” Frank asked cheekily.

Grant chuckled. “Of course, darling.”

Gerard leaned against the doorframe, a smile quirking his lips as he watched them. Frank rubbed his cheek against Grant’s shoulder and smiled back at Gerard.

“Coffee’s ready,” he murmured after a long moment. Gerard beamed wider and came toward them.

Grant reached out to tug him close. He ran his thumb along Gerard’s jaw.

Frank leaned up to kiss Gerard’s cheek, sliding down to his mouth. He could taste Gerard’s smile. He certainly hoped Gerard could taste his.

Gerard tugged away from them and reached for the coffee, which made Frank laugh. “I see how we rate,” he teased.

Gerard grinned at him, sly.

“I’m not at all surprised,” Grant said into Frank’s hair.

“Neither am I,” Frank said with a laugh and squeezed Grant in his arms. Hands wrapped tightly around his mug, Gerard laughed a little– silently, of course. Fuck, but Frank wanted to hear Gerard’s laugh for real. “We need to go see Warren, right now,” he grumbled.

Grant laughed. “Soon.”

Gerard pressed close, mug wrapped in his hands. Frank was gratified by how it seemed that none of them particularly wanted to stop touching each other for too long. He couldn’t really say how long it had been, since he’d had this. A long time. Too long. They stood like that for more than a few minutes.

“What shall we do for the rest of the day, loves?” Grant asked. “Back to the workshop? Or back to the bedroom?”

Frank laughed. “Guess.”

Grant smiled. “Color me surprised. Though, I while I am not unwilling, the sooner we finish our work in the workshop, the sooner we can go see Warren.”

“Think it’s up to Gee, then,” Frank said.

He watched Gerard bend down and scrawl something in his book. _I need to be able to tell you how I feel. Soon._

Frank bit his lip and swallowed.

“Bed after workshop, then?” Grant said. He sounded like Frank felt.

Frank nodded. “Let’s get some coffee, then. Work to do.”

Gerard slipped his hand into Frank’s as they walked. Frank laced their fingers together. Gerard smiled at him.

The workshop was still set up from their earlier experiments, the book still in its protective circle on the table. Frank felt Gerard’s fingers twitch when he saw it. Frank squeezed his hand. “The next spell we do will probably deactivate the spell on the book,” Frank assured him. “It’ll be harmless soon.”

Gerard squeezed back, smiling gratefully. Frank had never known what it was to be frightened of magic, and Gerard had more reason than most to be wary, but he controlled it well. And he didn’t seem to be afraid of them, which made Frank feel pretty good.

“Shall we?” Grant asked, gesturing expansively towards the worktable.

“Just point me in the right direction,” Frank murmured.

Grant nodded and cupped his cheek. “Let’s clean up the last and then start the circle.”

Fuck, that felt good. To have Grant’s hand on him, and to know that he got to _have_ this. He could only imagine what it would do to their magic. He supposed they were about to find out. They’d had a bond before and it strengthened their spells. Now, with nothing between them, no doubt, no fear…fuck. It was going to be amazing.

Stealing a glance at Grant, he could tell from Grant’s expression that he was thinking along similar lines. “Get out the lava blend,” Grant suggested quietly.

Frank nodded and did as Grant said while Grant cleaned up the earlier mess. He and Grant moved easily around each other, as they always did. But now there were little touches every time they got close to one another. It amazing and maddening at the same time.

Grant set up the candles while Frank measured the lava powder. They’d avoided it in the past; most mages considered it too volatile for regular use. But Grant clearly was feeling the electricity between them too. Frank was more and more confident they would beat this damn spell. And he wanted Gerard to feel completely comfortable in their home.

Because maybe… maybe the stray thoughts he’d had before about Gerard being here as a permanent thing weren’t as crazy as he’d told himself they were.

Frank stepped up to the table when Grant finished with the candles. “Fire and lava powder. This’ll be exciting at any rate,” Frank said with a smile.

“Definitely,” Grant agreed. “And, with any luck, it will be forceful enough to knock out the residual curse from this damn book.”

“Go for it,” Frank gestured at the table. Grant caught his hand and kissed the knuckles. Frank’s stomach fluttered and he smiled. “And maybe we’ll get a little more useful information from it before it’s gone.”

He tossed a glance over to the couch where Gerard was sitting. His notebook was clutched loosely in his hand, but it was closed, and he was watching them. Frank gave him an encouraging grin. Gerard smiled back. There was something vaguely nervous about him. Frank hoped they could put an end to that within a few minutes.

“Ready,” Frank said, looking back over at Grant.

Grant started pouring the ingredients into the crucible. Frank stood next to him and recited the words of the spell in his head. Grant raised his hand over the crucible and spoke a short, sharp incantation, designed to ignite. Frank felt heat flare low in his belly, and reached out for Grant’s other hand.

Grant gasped when their palms touched, and finished the last phrases. Frank took up the incantation then. He felt the words like living flames spiraling through him. The burning spell components licked his palm with heat.

He felt the book start to react, felt the spell fight against them. But it was no match for their combined power. Their magic sparked and filled the air, their voices twining together as they came to the last part of the spell. The candles were dripping wax like crazy, even though the air in the room was still.

Frank felt when the spell on the book finally released, its tendrils flowing directly into the crucible. He wanted to laugh, to pump his fist in the air, to grab Grant and kiss the fuck out of him. For now, though, there was still work to do, seeing the spell through.

He decanted neutralizing herbs into the crucible while Grant snuffed the candles with his fingertips, one by one. Several of the herbs flash-burned immediately. Those herbs were used in the construction of the spell and Frank made note of them. Two were extremely rare. They had only used single leaves of those. And they were both found in the southern forests. In elf country.

Finally, everything had been consumed by the flames. Frank scrawled his notes on a scrap of paper while Grant studied the wax drippings on the scarred wooden tabletop. “We might be in for quite the journey,” he finally said.

Frank stepped back, finally, only to find Gerard standing close behind him, waiting. When Frank turned, Gerard grabbed him and gave him a searing, filthy kiss. Frank held onto his shoulders, rubbing mindlessly with his thumbs, letting him take what he wanted. Not that Frank wasn’t giving back as good as he was getting, but Gerard was absolutely in control here.

When Gerard finally pulled back panting, Frank reached out and picked up the book. There wasn’t even a spark of magic on it now. He heard Gerard’s sharp intake of breath.

“It’s okay,” Frank told him. “It’s safe now.”

Gerard squared his shoulders and reached for the book. He opened it and it was blank. He reached into his pocket for his pencil and scrawled, _The final draft will go in here,_ on the first page.

Grant laughed and pulled Gerard close. “Perfect .” Gerard lifted his face, and Grant leaned down to kiss him. It was slow this time. Frank couldn’t get enough of watching them, of seeing their hands and lips on each other. Grant, familiar and loved for so long. Gerard, new but such a perfect fit into their lives, their _home_ , that Frank had to work to remind himself that he hadn’t always been a part of them.

“Do what you want with it,” Grant murmured finally. “But do it later.”

Frank laughed and pressed close to them. Gerard was smiling, fierce and warm and _theirs_. Frank could feel it. He slipped his hands under Gerard’s shirt to touch his bare skin.

Gerard kissed Frank again, this time more gently, but with no less passion. “Keeping you,” Frank murmured against his lips.

Gerard met his eyes up close, staring steadily. Frank was pretty sure they could take that as a yes. Frank slid his hands up to cup Gerard’s cheeks and kissed him again.

Grant pressed in close, dropping kisses wherever he could reach. He kissed Gerard’s cheek and Frank’s eyebrow and more, until Frank giggled and threw himself at Grant’s chest. Grant caught him in a tight embrace. They’d hugged before, but it was so damn good to have this, to be in Grant’s arms and know he didn’t have to pull back.

There was more to talk about, he was pretty sure, but it could wait. Everything but this could wait.

“Upstairs,” Frank said.

Grant smiled. “Yes, of course. Gerard?”

Gerard nodded enthusiastically. Grant got a hand into the waistband of Frank’s pants and steered him towards the door. Frank laughed again and let him.

This time, they made it to Grant’s bedroom with only a few stops for kissing against walls. They were good stops, though. Fuck, Frank was hard and panting already. The other two weren’t in any better shape. Frank tugged Gerard’s hips to his and they moved against each other.

“I want to do so many fucking things to you both,” Grant murmured, fingertips trailing down Frank’s spine and making him shiver.

“Do them. Do them all,” Frank groaned.

“Oh, I will,” Grant promised.

Gerard bit at Frank’s ear, just lightly. Enough to make Frank gasp, though. He looked Gerard in the eyes. “You too?” he whispered. “So many things?”

Gerard nodded emphatically. Frank grinned and dragged them both into the bedroom.

“This time I want somebody to fuck me,” Frank announced.

Grant made a low noise. Gerard’s hands tightened on his wrist. They were clearly both interested in the idea. That sent another shiver down Frank’s spine, pooling low and warm in his belly. He tugged harder, towing Gerard in the direction of the bed.

There was no process to undressing this time. They quickly divested themselves of their clothes. Frank found himself caught between them as they all tumbled down onto the bed together. He squirmed, and Grant rolled on top of him and reached for his wrists.

Frank gasped and let Grant hold his wrists over his head. Gerard settled next to them, eyes hungry. Grant flashed a grin at him and leaned in to taste Frank’s throat. Frank moaned and rolled his hips up against Grant’s.

“Darling,” Grant murmured, tracing Frank’s jaw with his lips.

“Please, Grant.” Frank had fucking dreamed and fantasized about this for ages.

“All in good time,” Grant murmured. “And we don’t want Gerard to feel left out, do we?”

Gerard practically lunged for his notebook. _I want to watch. You can take care of me after._

“We’re going to take very, very good care of you,” Grant promised.

 _You have since I walked in your door,_ Gerard wrote in large letters.

Frank smiled and Gerard leaned in to kiss him, then Grant. Then he drew back just far enough to watch them, propping his head in his hand, a grin quirking his lips. Frank couldn’t stop shivering, a tiny tremor, knowing, feeling Gerard’s gaze was climbing all over him.

He shivered again when Grant’s lips found his neck again and his hands tightened on Frank’s wrists. “I think I want to fuck you just like this,” Grant murmured. He was stealing looks at Gerard; Frank knew he loved an audience. He nodded, tipping his head back.

Grant let his lips slide up to the spot behind Frank’s ear, then down his neck again, over his clavicles, and down his chest. “Yes,” Grant said, low. “I pictured this so many times.”

“Tell me what you want,” Frank replied.

“You. Always you,” Grant murmured against his chest. “I want to see your face as I fuck you and I want to make you come while I’m inside you.”

“Yes,” Frank breathed. He felt hot all over.

Cool fingers pressed gently against Frank’s wrist. Gerard. Grant’s hands holding his wrists there were long gone, but Frank hadn’t moved them. He grabbed onto Gerard’s hand. Gerard laced their fingers together and squeezed.

Grant was gone, rummaging beside the bed in a drawer. Frank leaned in to kiss Gerard and squeezed his hand. Then Grant was back, a small bottle in his hand. He trailed his fingertips up Frank’s thigh. Frank’s eyes snapped back to his face. He couldn’t look away.

Grant knelt between Frank’s knees and smiled down at him.

“Grant,” Frank murmured. “Fuck, I want-”

“So do I,” Grant told him, nodded and opened the bottle. He got his fingers slick and slid his hand between Frank’s legs. Frank gasped when Grant’s fingertips found his entrance, lightly touching. “Easy now,” Grant murmured. Gerard kissed Frank’s fingers.

Frank bit his lip and concentrated on how Grant’s fingers felt as they stroked over him and finally pushed one inside. His eyes slipped closed against the sensation. Fuck, it had been a long time. And Grant’s hands were the stuff dreams were made of. Frank’s dreams, anyway.

His fingers were tight in Gerard’s and when Grant added another finger, he moaned loud, hips twitching up. Grant chuckled, low. “I imagined this. I tried to tell myself I shouldn’t. You’re so fucking important to me, and I didn’t want to risk that for anything. But…”

“I did too,” Frank told him, breathless. “I drove myself crazy with it.”

“Now I’ll just be the one driving you crazy,” Grant joked and crooked his fingers to graze Frank’s prostate. Frank arched, gasping. He felt Gerard’s hand sweeping up and down his chest in soothing strokes.

“Both of you,” Frank gasped.

“We’ll start with one,” Grant said with a filthy chuckle. Frank tried to laugh, but it came out as a moan because Grant gave him a third finger.

Gerard’s hand was still soothing, but his tongue traced the shell of Frank’s ear. Frank wriggled a little. Grant set a hand on his stomach. Frank breathed deeply and covered Grant’s hand with his. “I’m ready,” he murmured.

Grant dipped down to claim his mouth for a deep, lush kiss. Frank was out of words, anyway. He clung even when Grant tried to pull back and get himself ready. Grant kissed him again. “Let me go, love,” he whispered against Frank’s lips.

Gerard’s hand found Frank’s cheek, tilting his face to claim a kiss of his own. Gerard kissed differently than Grant did. With Gerard, especially, it was like he was trying to speak without speaking. Frank was happy to listen. He gasped into Gerard’s mouth when he felt the head of Grant’s cock against him.

“Gerard,” Grant said, tightly, and Frank felt Gerard’s nod, felt Gerard’s grip tighten on his hand. He gasped anyway, clutching at Gerard’s fingers, at the sheets.

Grant went slow, so slow that Frank couldn’t do anything other than moan. Gerard feathered kisses across Frank’s cheek, his temple. Grant’s hand slid up his body, inch by inch as he pressed in.

When he was finally all the way in, Frank moaned and wrapped his legs around Grant’s waist. “Go,” Frank gasped. “Come on, please-”

“Darling,” Grant slurred. “You feel so good, I just want to -”

Frank moaned and moved his hips. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. Grant hissed, and Frank saw Gerard reach out to tenderly cup the curve of Grant’s skill. Grant closed his eyes, then leaned down to kiss Frank. Frank kissed back with all the things he didn’t have the breath to say out loud.

Grant fucking him felt like a revelation. It was everything. He couldn’t breathe, speak, do anything but feel. It felt so fucking good and he _knew_ , could feel it was just as good for Grant. And Gerard heightened everything just by his presence, kissing and touching and grounding Frank when he felt he might fly apart.

“Just like I promised,” Grant gasped. “Looking at your face, now let me see you come.” Frank moaned and with only the brush of Grant’s belly against his cock, came hard. Harder than he had in a long time. He gasped Grant’s name over and over again.

Grant leaned down to kiss him again, thrusting harder as soon as Frank relaxed. Frank moaned into his mouth. It was intense, but he never wanted it to stop. Grant’s thrusts were coming quicker, the rhythm of his hips becoming more and more unsteady. Even Gerard was breathing heavily. Grant was trying to gasp out Frank’s name. Frank swallowed it with a kiss and wrapped a hand around the back of Grant’s neck.

Gerard leaned in, biting at the side of Grant’s throat. That was all Grant needed. He bowed his head, snapped his hips, and came with a groan.

“Grant,” Frank whispered. “So good, Grant.”

Grant buried his face in Frank’s chest for a moment, shuddering and panting. Frank held him close. He felt Gerard’s hands stroking over Grant’s back. Frank felt _amazing_. He would never want to move, except…Gerard. Gerard whose lips were pressed to Grant’s shoulder.

“Gee,” Frank whispered.

Gerard gasped silently, and Frank could feel how hard he was. Frank reached for Gerard and pulled him into his arms. “You fit here,” he murmured in Gerard’s ear.

Gerard pressed his nose against Frank’s cheek for a moment, quivering. Frank looked down and watched Grant kiss his way down Gerard’s thigh. Frank smiled and took hold of Gerard’s chin so he could kiss him properly. A moment later, Gerard arched up, and Frank saw that Grant had taken Gerard in his mouth.

“You deserve it,” Frank whispered. “So patient.”

Gerard moaned and Frank slid a hand over his chest. He rolled one of Gerard’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Gerard was so beautifully expressive, even without his voice. Frank kissed at the soft skin below his ear and listened to the slick sounds of Grant’s mouth and Gerard’s skin.

“You are so beautiful,” Frank told him. “So very beautiful.” Gerard’s hips hitched, head falling back, eyes closing. He had to be so on edge. Frank couldn’t stop kissing him: neck, cheek, brows, lips. “Come for us, Gerard,” Frank whispered in his ear. “Let Grant taste you.”

Gerard nodded frantically. His mouth was moving like he couldn’t stop it, forming words that Frank desperately wanted to hear. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed their lips together, letting his ears fill with Grant instead. He was moaning around Gerard’s cock. Frank could feel Gerard shaking. Gerard kissed him like he was drowning, and Frank felt Gerard shudder and gasp and fall apart.

He held on, whispering Gerard’s name against his lips. “Good boy,” he said, nonsensically, since he was sure Gerard was older than he. Gerard just kissed him. Frank could feel Grant sliding up to join them and leaned over to steal a kiss, to taste Gerard on his lips.

It felt so goddamn good to be tangled up with them like this. Frank got one hand wrapped in Gerard’s silky hair, one cupped around Grant’s cheek, and wished he had more to cling with. Grant smiled at him soft and full of love, then kissed Gerard soft and slow.

When they broke apart, Gerard buried his face in Frank’s neck for a long moment. Frank could feel his lips moving. Frank cradled the back of his head, held him still, held him close. Soon, they would have Gerard’s words. For now, they would find other ways of speaking. Frank was seriously fond of snuggling. It seemed his bedmates were too. He felt more content than he could say.

* * *

Grant knew he must look like a schoolboy, stumbling around with a lovesick smile on his face, barely noticing where his feet were leading him. He couldn’t bring himself to care– not when he had awakened this morning with Frank warm in his arms, and Gerard pressed close against his back.

Grant had never been one to deny the efficacy of sexual energy on magical pursuits. He just had rarely felt so satisfied about it. They’d finished all the major spells they’d needed to do for the time being and Grant was almost sorry about it. It was difficult to decide what was better; the way his magic now fluttered and sparked against Frank’s, or the hungry look in Gerard’s eyes when he watched them spellcast.

But they were due to meet Warren, and dwarf country was quite a trip. They’d hired horses and a mule and were setting out as soon as they had breakfast.

Gerard appeared in the kitchen with his traveling bag and a small case that Grant was fairly sure contained instruments. “You do ride?” Grant asked, after kissing him good morning.

Gerard wrinkled his nose and nodded. Grant took that to mean he could, but didn’t prefer it. He laughed, pulling Gerard close, loving the way that Gerard melted immediately into his arms.

“You are such a gift,” Grant told him. Gerard beamed at him and leaned in for another kiss. It had only been three days since… well. Since Gerard had decided that enough was enough with regards to Grant and Frank and their constant, careful dance around one another. Grant barely knew how to act without it, but he wasn’t having trouble improvising.

Frank seemed more than happy to remind Grant that he could touch now. And while Grant knew Gerard still hated his lack of voice, he seemed determined to make up for what he couldn’t say. It was particularly pleasant when he decided to do it by letting his gorgeous hands wander. In fact, he did so then, letting a hand slide down to squeeze Grant’s arse before pulling away and moving toward the coffee maker.

Grant laughed again, unable to stop himself. Gerard had been utterly unexpected, but he was completely fucking perfect. He fit in between Frank and Grant like it was always where he’d been meant to be. Speaking of Frank… “Did Frank come down with you, Gerard?”

Gerard shook his head and scribbled in his notebook, _He buried his face in his pillow._

“Well, it was a rather late night,” Grant allowed, grinning. Gerard grinned back. Grant had a sudden, vivid flashback to the night before– Gerard had worn much the same expression just before he slithered down Grant’s body to take Grant in his mouth. He tilted his head at Gerard. “You’re up rather early.”

 _Nerves,_ Gerard scrawled.

Grant cupped his cheek. “We’ll be with you. And we’ll get rid of this curse.”

Gerard bit his lip, but he nodded. Grant couldn’t help himself from leaning in to press a kiss to Gerard’s worried mouth. He enjoyed it, the same way he’d enjoyed doing the selfsame thing when Frank had been packing frantically last night. It was because for those few moments, he managed to make them forget their cares. When he pulled back, Gerard gave him a smile.

“I’ll go wake Frank.” Gerard smirked at him. “And I won’t let us get distracted.” Gerard raised an eyebrow. “You have my word,” Grant promised, grandly.

The other eyebrow went up. Gerard knew better. But he went on filling the coffee pot.

Grant smiled as he made his way upstairs. Frank was still curled up in bed, face smashed against his pillow as promised. Grant was arrested for a moment by the sight. Frank was so fucking beautiful, it made Grant’s chest hurt. He always was, of course, but in Grant’s bed….

Grant sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to stroke a hand through Frank’s hair. Frank made an indistinguishable noise of unhappiness, but he pushed into Grant’s hand. “Darling,” Grant murmured.

Frank reached back blindly with one hand until he found Grant’s arm, and tugged. Grant laughed and let himself curl around Frank. They’d only stay here for a moment.

“Hello,” Grant whispered in Frank’s ear. “Tired this morning, love?”

Frank mumbled again.

“If you’re simply avoiding the trip, please remember that Warren is very fond of you,” Grant added, and heard a distinct snort from under the tangle of hair. “He only teases the ones he likes,” Grant said, and kissed Frank’s forehead. “Come downstairs. Gerard was making coffee when I left him and will probably have started on breakfast by the time we get down there.”

This time, the noise that Frank made was definitely pleased. Grant smiled. In his darker moments, he’d sometimes tortured himself by imagining Frank falling in love with someone else. He had never, not in his wildest dreams, expected this.

Frank finally stretched and shifted, but ended up draped over Grant. “Pay the toll,” he mumbled, nuzzling Grant.

Grant laughed and leaned in to kiss him slow and full of promise before pulling away again. He cupped Frank’s cheek with his hand. “I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you too,” Frank replied, nuzzling again before sitting up. Grant watched him wash his face in the basin and pull on his clothes. He wanted to take them off again and pull Frank back into bed. He suspected that urge wasn’t going to vanish anytime soon.

Frank shouldered his traveling bag with a wry smile and Grant followed him down to the kitchen.

Gerard smiled at them from over his shoulder. He was standing in front of a pan and something was sizzling, and Lightning was twining around his ankles. Frank crossed the kitchen and wrapped himself around Gerard, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “Morning.”

Gerard leaned back into him, tipping their heads together. Grant watched them for a moment, then started setting the table. He had no idea how he’d been so lucky as to have this. He wanted to be quite careful to keep it.

Frank poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table. He really did look tired. A few moments, later, Gerard brought the skillet over and deposited it on the table with a flourish. Fried corncakes and poached eggs. Grant’s mouth watered. “The day is already off to a good start,” Grant said with a grin at Gerard.

Gerard beamed at him. Frank laughed and tugged Gerard down into the seat beside him. “Soon you’ll be a better cook than me, and we will be forced to keep you here forever,” Frank teased.

Gerard smiled wide and shrugged with a little nod. He clearly didn’t mind the idea. And oh, Grant liked that. Far, far more than he probably ought to.

Gerard prodded him, and he realized they were waiting for him to fill his plate. Grant smiled and dished up food for himself. That was a thing he’d need to speak to Frank about, probably. Not that he thought Frank would feel differently, but it would be good for them to talk.

Gerard moved to refill his coffee cup. Grant found himself just staring at him. Frank caught him at it and smiled, nudging his calf under the table. Grant laughed softly at himself. He really was acting an utter fool about them. Frank didn’t seem to care, from the way he was looking at Grant. He took Frank’s hand and pulled it up to his lips.

They lingered over breakfast. Grant was looking forward to the journey: to seeing Warren, to finding a solution to Gerard’s curse. But he also very much liked being here with them.

A knock at the door eventually signaled the hired horses. Grant went to answer while Frank scuttled off to double-check their luggage and ensure that the arrangements for the cats were in place. They were self-sufficient creatures—they had been strays, after all—but Frank liked to be completely certain about things. Gerard knelt beside the bag containing his instruments. Grant let them both do what they felt they needed to while he spoke to the groom.

He almost wished they’d hired the groom to stay with them, but their task was still a sensitive one. The journey would take them at least three days, if the weather remained fair. Grant had traveled it often enough to have his favorite inns along the way.

He gave the groom a bag of coins to help them load the mule. He glanced at Gerard and his instruments and smiled. And they’d make sure Gerard’s things were secured with him on his horse. It would have been better if they could hire a coach, but keeping Gerard’s curse a secret was more important than comfort, and a coach would have meant a driver who might overhear too much. Luckily, the weather had been warming up and the mountain passes would be fairly easy to go over on horseback.

Frank touched his hand. “All set?”

Grant nodded, and waved off the groom before they mounted up. Gerard made a face at him, but didn’t seem at all uncomfortable in the saddle. Frank was bent over, murmuring to his gelding and stroking his neck.

“Ready?” Grant asked. Gerard and Frank both nodded.

They set out at a steady but an easy clip. He checked on Gerard regularly, if only just to give him a once-over before turning back to the road. Gerard couldn’t tell them if things were going awry, after all.

They had a fairly easy ride today, with plans to make it to a village at the base of the foothills. Grant had plenty of plans for once they had arrived at the inn, too. The thought made him smile, and he sent it back over his shoulder to his boys. Gerard was looking into the distance, but Frank caught his eye and smiled back. Frank, at the very least, would not likely be offended to be referred to as Grant’s boy. The locals had called him that often enough over the years.

They kept riding until Frank called out that they should stop for lunch. They were still some ways away from the nearest town, but there was a clearing a little off the road that would serve perfectly. Grant knew Frank had packed a nice picnic.

They tied up the horses on loose leads so they could graze and drink from a nearby stream and made themselves comfortable. Frank went to unpack the food. Gerard flopped down next to Grant, leaning against him.

“You seem comfortable enough on horseback, love,” Grant said, stroking Gerard’s hair.

Gerard wrinkled his nose and huffed again and reached for his notebook. _My father was a farrier and owned the stables in Belleville. I am comfortable with horses, though I generally prefer not to ride if I can help it._

Grant hummed, wrapping his arm around Gerard’s waist. “With any luck, Warren and his dwarves will provide us with the key we need to unlock your voice, and no further riding will be required.”

 _Only the ride back,_ Gerard wrote.

Grant crooked a smile. “Yes, I suppose there’s that. Though, with your voice returned to you we may be able to hire a driver.”

“A carriage could be fun. A _closed_ carriage,” Frank said, sitting down beside them with the food. He waggled his eyebrows.

Gerard helped himself to a sandwich, licking his lips exaggeratedly. Grant didn’t think it was meant to be excitement over the food. His eyes never left Frank’s. Grant laughed and reached for his own sandwich. They’d have to be careful or they’d spend the whole afternoon right here. Although, he thought perhaps Gerard would protest. The skald’s relationship with nature seemed somewhat fraught. Then he looked back at Frank, who was the actual definition of irresistible. Perhaps he wouldn’t after all.

But…no. Grant had a plan. He had a plan that involved Gerard getting back use of his voice, which was extremely important to him. For many reasons. He was man enough to admit that one of them was wanting to taste Gerard’s moans. He didn’t think anyone could fault him for that one, actually.

He turned dutifully to his sandwich and took a bite. It was delicious and that was only in part due to the freshness spell Frank must’ve put on the basket. Frank took care with everything that was important. Grant was very much afraid he was staring foolishly again. This time at the other one of them.

Frank just lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. “I love you to distraction,” Grant informed him. The smile Frank gave him in return was utterly breathtaking.

Horses. Riding. Inn. Grant had to concentrate. That grew more difficult when Frank reached out to squeeze Grant’s knee. It was going to be a long afternoon.

When lunch was finished, Frank started packing the containers away again. Gerard stood and did a few languid stretches. Once again, Grant was overtaken by the temptation to just stay where they were. He resisted and re-bridled the horses.

Gerard came over and kissed Grant’s cheek, favoring him with a sweet smile. “Am I obvious?” Grant asked. Gerard bit his lip and nodded. “But we want to get you your voice back. So on we go,” he murmured and leaned in for a kiss.

“I want one, too,” Frank announced, coming over to them.

“Of course you do.” Grant tugged him in by the waist—slim and wiry and perfect—and gave him what he wanted.

Frank clearly had more self-control than Grant, because he pulled back after a few moments. When he darted a glance at Gerard, he was wearing an expression of enchantment. Frank launched himself at Gerard, laughing, and kissed him all over his face. “Let’s go,” he said.

Grant took a deep breath and let it out as a happy sigh before swinging up onto his horse. The weather was fine, and they had a few more hours to ride.

Still, when they arrived at the inn in the town at the base of the mountains, Grant was tired and ready for a hot meal. The stable hand scurried out to help with the horses and mule and Grant went in to book a them a suite of rooms. It was quickly done, and Grant also arranged to have dinner sent up.

Frank draped himself over an armchair as soon as they were let into the suite, but Gerard immediately opened his instrument case. He felt each one gently, clearly ensuring they were still in one piece. Grant would have been surprised if it was otherwise; he had put a very solid spell of protection on the case before they’d set out. It was charming that Gerard didn’t even realize it was an option. Grant was so impatient to show him all the other things they could use magic for.

He went up behind Gerard and slid his hands over Gerard’s shoulders. “I understand the need to check, but we did charm your cases to protect the contents,” he murmured in Gerard’s ear.

Gerard made a face at him.

“I know,” Grant laughed, “they’re important to you. I’m simply saying.”

“We should have charmed my arse,” Frank complained from his slump on the chair.

Grant laughed and Gerard’s shoulders shook with silent giggles. “Oh, love. Perhaps we can do something about that,” Grant offered, crossing the room.

“Distract me,” Frank commanded, stretching out even further across the chair arms.

Grant smiled wide and knelt on the floor beside him. “Dinner won’t distract you?”

“Dinner will help,” Frank corrected, cupping Grant’s cheek with a hand. “Gerard will help, too. Won’t you?” He directed this last to Gerard, who it seemed needed no further prompting. He draped himself over Frank’s shoulders, looking down at Grant and grinning.

“I think that’s a yes,” Grant murmured. “Dinner first, though. Or they’ll close the kitchen and we’ll be left hungry.”

As if summoned by his voice, there was a knock on the door. “I am not moving,” Frank declared.

Grant laughed again. “I’ll get the door.”

Gerard got up, too—Frank grumbled loudly, but subsided when Gerard ran his fingers through Frank’s hair on his way over to their luggage. Grant opened the door for the kitchen girl with her laden tray and gestured at the table. She laid everything out quickly and expertly, then bowed out of the room.

The sight of the food was enough to remind Grant how hungry he was—riding, even easy riding like they’d done today, took a lot out of him. Gerard had stopped rooting around in his bag as soon as the food hit the table, and was now fingering a fork.

“Still not moving,” Frank declared from his chair.

Grant glanced at Gerard. “What are we going to do about that, hm?”

Gerard started filling a plate, then carried it over to Frank and set it carefully in his lap.

“You’re the best,” Frank said, smiling beatifically. Gerard nodded, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

“I think he expects payment later,” Grant murmured, wrapping an arm around Gerard’s waist and kissing his neck. Gerard nodded and Grant smiled against his neck. He didn’t linger long. The food smelled amazing.

It was as companionable as any other meal that the three of them had shared together, but there was something simmering just below the surface. Grant felt that his own desire had quickly become a craving, a need. Perhaps it was just the newness of their liaisons, but Grant thought perhaps there were other forces at work here. And he dared to hope that the other two felt similarly. Frank was an open book, of course; he had a good deal of certainty that Frank did feel the same.

Gerard was somewhat more of a mystery, but Grant had the feeling that was only because he was waiting to be able to actually tell them with his voice. Perhaps it should have felt strange, the ease with which Grant took Gerard into his arms—the way he fit into a place that Grant hadn’t known existed just a few weeks before. He fit there, at least partly, because he wanted to fit there. Gerard didn’t need a voice to communicate that.

Grant kissed Gerard’s temple and tugged him toward Frank.

“My thighs hurt too,” Frank informed them seriously.

Gerard exchanged a look with Grant, tilting his head in question. Grant nodded at him to go ahead. Gerard grinned and climbed into Frank’s lap, straddling the thighs in question and bracing himself with a hand on the arm of the chair, one on either side of Frank’s neck.

Grant watched as Frank’s hands landed on Gerard’s waist, rucking up his shirt to get to his skin. “Gonna kiss it better?” Frank asked, a smile curving his lips.

Gerard obligingly leaned down to catch Frank’s lips, his hips moving in a slow roll against Frank’s. Grant watched Frank’s the flex of Frank’s hands on Gerard’s skin. They were utterly gorgeous together. Frank looked like he had forgotten his complaints of soreness, wrapping around Gerard avidly.

Grant moved closer and sank to his knees beside them. Everything was better up close. He could see how their lips moved together—how Frank’s eyes were closed in pleasure, and how Gerard’s fingertips traced the shell of Frank’s ear. He slipped a hand between them, into the vee of Frank’s shirt to touch skin. Frank made a pleased noise.

Gerard pulled back eventually, moving down to bite gently at Frank’s jaw.

“You’re going to make me move, aren’t you,” Frank sighed.

Grant laughed. “I don’t think all three of us would fit on that chair.”

Gerard stood and, grinning mischievously, started pulling his shirt up, slowly walking towards the bed. Grant was quick to get up, but lingered to tug Frank to his feet. And to inspect his anatomy with a familiar slide of hands. Frank moaned happily into Grant’s neck.

Something cloth-like impacted Grant’s shoulder: Gerard’s shirt. “That was a rather pointed message, wasn’t it,” Grant murmured against Frank’s ear.

Frank giggled. “Yeah, a bit.”

When Grant turned, he saw that Gerard was already sprawled out on the bed. He’d kicked out of his boots, and was pushing his trousers down his thighs, hips arching up.

“Think that’s a message too?” Frank asked from beside Grant.

“Quite possibly,” Grant replied. Gerard gave them a rude gesture from the bed. Grant laughed deeply and gave Frank a gentle push towards the bed. Frank let himself thud heavily onto the mattress, draped across Gerard like a blanket.

Grant stared down with them with a smile on his face as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Gerard was impatiently tugging at Frank’s shirt. Frank was being lazy, deliberately so. Grant could barely keep his attention on his shirt for wanting to laugh. And watch to see what Gerard would do.

Gerard tugged him close by his lapels and started nibbling on his bottom lip. “Mmmm,” Frank said appreciatively. Then Gerard pushed his hands up into Frank’s hair and the noise went a little fainter, needier. Frank’s hands fumbled on his buttons now.

Grant smiled and shucked off his trousers. He made quick work of the rest of his clothing, and by the time he crawled on the bed Frank had finally done the same. He stretched out easily on the mattress next to them.

Frank rolled onto his back between them and Grant leaned down to kiss him. Frank, Grant was discovering, _loved_ being kissed. He gave himself up to it entirely. It was intoxicating. Grant could spend uncounted hours doing it, in fact. He wanted to spend the rest of his natural life doing it. When he wasn’t kissing Gerard.

Gerard, who was mouthing up the side of Grant’s neck, gently scraping with his teeth. It felt better than anything had any right to. He kept kissing Frank, but let his hand find Gerard’s side.

Gerard, Grant was learning, liked attention. In many different forms. Luckily it was no trouble whatever to give it to him. If he didn’t want attention specifically, he always wanted the possibility of it. Hence him sitting with them in the workshop.

Grant let his fingers trail up and down Gerard’s skin until Frank gasped for breath beneath him, and Grant moved to capture Gerard’s lips. Gerard opened his mouth eagerly for Grant’s tongue.

Grant could feel a low level of magical energy gathering. It made everything even more pleasant, a gentle buzz against their skin. Frank’s hands were busy, tracing patterns across Grant’s chest. At least half of them were magical symbols, harmless but titillating. Grant supposed Gerard didn’t realize. Grant smiled, wondering if Frank had ever used them with anyone before.

He selfishly hoped that they were the first. He certainly wanted to be the last. He smiled against Gerard’s lips. Well. Gerard, too.

Gerard tugged on Grant’s ear to get his attention. Grant chuckled. “Yes?” Gerard couldn’t answer, of course, but he touched, cupping Grant’s cheek before turning back to Frank.

Gerard took his turn kissing Frank. Grant watched Frank’s fingers trace the marks into Gerard’s skin. Gerard arched and shivered, hands flailing for any part of Frank or Grant that he could reach. Grant couldn’t resist adding his own touch, lightly tracing a symbol of his own onto Gerard’s chest.

Gerard met his eyes and held them; he was shaking and caught his lip between his teeth as they continued to touch him.

“Do you like this?” Grant asked. The answer was obvious, but he wanted Gerard’s response.

Gerard nodded frantically, still grabbing at them, his own fingers tracing designs with no meaning but want.

“Do you want more, love?” Grant asked. “What can we do for you?” He knew Gerard would find a way to tell them.

Gerard squirmed, hips arching up. His eyes drifted closed for a moment. He turned over onto his belly then.

“You want one of us to fuck you?” he murmured. Gerard nodded frantically.

Grant looked at Frank, whose mouth was slightly open, gleaming as he licked his lips. Much as Grant wanted to, he thought perhaps Frank wanted it more. And the thought of _watching_ …

“Frank?” Grant asked, tracing his fingertips over the curve of Gerard’s ass.

“Please,” Frank said.

Grant leaned in to kiss him, then dropped a kiss on Gerard’s shoulder. “Whatever you want.”

What Frank wanted, apparently, was to curl himself even closer around the curve of Gerard’s body and kiss the fuck out of him for a little while. Gerard was rocking up into him after a while. “Okay, okay,” Frank laughed against his skin.

Grant slipped off of the bed and over to their bags. The small glass bottle of oil was tucked in an accessible spot in his saddlebag. Grant was nothing if not prepared. He handed the bottle to Frank and got back on the bed with them.

He ran a hand through Gerard’s hair. Gerard reached up to tangle their fingers together. He pulled Grant’s hand down to kiss it. Grant smiled softly and held Gerard’s hand as Frank started preparing him.

“Like this?” Frank murmured, rubbing one slick finger around Gerard’s entrance. When Gerard shuddered, nodding, Frank laughed lowly and pushed his fingertip slowly inside. “Gee,” he whispered. “Gee, I want it to be good.”

Grant heard Gerard swallow hard and he nodded. “It will be, Frankie,” Grant said. “It’s you.”

Frank took a deep breath, bending to kiss Grant’s fingertips where they were tangled with Gerard’s. He worked a second finger into Gerard, kissing the creamy skin of Gerard’s shoulders. From Gerard’s face, Grant knew he’d be moaning wantonly if he could use his voice. “He loves it, Frank.”

“Yeah,” Frank murmured. “You do, huh?” He kept thrusting his fingers in and out, hands as steady as they always were when he worked with delicate spells in the workshop.

“Gerard,” Grant murmured, “you need to tell us when you’re ready.”

Gerard gave them a small nod. Grant took that to mean that he wasn’t ready yet. At least, not ready for Frank to stop.

“Another?” Grant asked, to be sure, and this time Gerard’s nod was much more decisive. Frank hummed and gave him one. Gerard’s hips stuttered against the mattress and he bit his lip hard.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Grant murmured. He brushed Gerard’s hair off his face. “Yes?” he whispered, and Gerard nodded.

Frank took a deep, steadying breath and slicked himself up. Grant stroked Gerard’s hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. His eyes never left Frank, though.

Frank took hold of his cock and lined up, pressing slowly into Gerard. Grant couldn’t contain his own gasp at the sight. Frank was flushed and biting hard on his lower lip, hands caressing as he thrust. Gerard gripped Grant’s hand tightly, breathing hard.

“Beautiful,” Grant murmured. He was aware that he sounded like a broken record, but he couldn’t fucking help himself. The two of them were the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He leaned down to kiss Gerard’s forehead.

When he pulled back, Grant met his eyes and suddenly knew that there was nothing Gerard could tell them with words that Grant couldn’t read in his eyes. “Gerard,” he breathed, wonderingly.

Gerard’s lips pressed together before parting to admit a gasping inhale. Frank’s hands skimmed up his back and curled around his shoulders.

Grant moved so he could kiss Frank, to swallow his moans as he thrust slowly into Gerard. Frank was clearly already near to coming undone. Grant kept his kisses slow and soft, running his fingers through Frank’s hair. He panted against Grant’s lips, and Gerard rubbed his face against Grant’s skin.

He used his free hand to trace a symbol on Gerard’s back. Gerard nipped at his shoulder, and Grant laughed, running that same hand down Frank’s spine. He felt his own arousal distantly, secondary to the immediacy of Frank’s panting breath and the way Gerard was arching and shivering.

“Gerard,” Frank moaned and leaned over to kiss the back of Gerard’s neck. “You feel so… I can’t…”

Gerard nodded helplessly, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets.

Grant watched transfixed as Frank shuddered and came. Gerard sucked in a breath and pushed his hips back against Frank’s stuttering thrusts.

“C’mon,” Frank slurred. He was gasping, clearly pushing himself near to the point of overstimulation. Gerard bowed his head, sank his teeth into his own forearm, and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back against Frank until Grant saw him shudder as well. Grant ran his hand up and down Gerard’s back, skating over Frank’s belly, then back up to squeeze Gerard’s neck. Gerard turned his head, and Grant bent down to kiss him. He felt Frank’s fingers touch his cheek, magic sparking as their skin made contact.

Grant gasped against Gerard’s mouth at the power of it. In that moment felt as if they could take over the world between the three of them with that sort of power. “Love,” he murmured, unable to hold the word back.

Gerard kissed him, Grant’s mouth catching his inhalation as Frank pulled out. Grant felt Frank’s hand on his thigh and pulled away from Gerard to look at him.

“Grant,” Frank said, voice thick.

“Frank, darling,” he whispered back. Grant turned onto his back and Frank covered Grant’s body with his. Gerard shifted and curled around them.

Being here now was worth every minute of uncertainty these past years. Worth every moment, and more besides. Frank touched his face again. Grant slid his hands into Frank’s hair and kissed him long and hard. Gerard was right there, hands reaching for any skin he could find, just to touch.

“You, you need -” Frank whispered.

“You,” Grant said. “And Gerard.”

Frank smiled. “What can we give you?”

“Anything,” Grant answered, honestly. Whatever the two of them decided on, he knew it would be exactly what he needed. Frank stretched on top of him felt amazingly good.

Frank kissed down his jaw to suck the spot just over his Adam’s apple while Gerard took Grant’s earlobe into his mouth. The careful scrape of Frank’s teeth made Grant gasp. Gerard’s tongue flicked lazily at Grant’s ear.

Grant moaned when Frank started moving down his body, kissing over his chest, sucking his nipples. Frank grinned up at him, wicked and hot and somehow, incredibly, Grant’s. “Please,” Grant gasped.

“With pleasure,” Frank drawled. He started by teasing Grant’s slit with the tip of his tongue. Gerard claimed Grant’s mouth for a lush kiss, capturing Grant’s moans.

Grant closed his eyes and tried to get a hand on each of them. One sank into Frank’s hair, the other slid around Gerard’s shoulders and held him close. It was the easiest thing in the world to give himself up to the feeling, their touches anchoring him as his pleasure crashed over him like a wave.

They held him as he arched and thrust up into Frank’s welcoming mouth. Between Gerard’s kisses and Frank’s hot mouth on his cock, Grant could hardly breathe. And on a deeper level, he could feel magic sparking and spiraling, Frank’s fingertips sketching symbols on his skin. He would come, any second, and he wasn’t sure if it would be Frank’s hands or his mouth.

In the end, he couldn’t tell. All he knew is that his body was thrumming with pleasure and magic and Frank’s mouth felt like paradise. He came, moaning into Gerard’s mouth, overwhelmed by sensation. Overwhelmed by love, even when he caught his breath.

Grant felt Frank lay his head on his thigh and pulled away from Gerard’s lips to look down at him. Frank’s lips were slick and swollen, and he was wearing a small, warm smile. “You,” Grant murmured, tugging gently on Frank’s hair.

Frank’s smile widened. “Me. And you. And Gee.”

Gerard’s smile, when Grant looked at him, was just as warm. Just as full of love. “Come up here,” Grant urged.

Frank moved up his body and settled on top of him again. He grinned down at Grant. Grant wanted nothing in the entire world more than to kiss him, but before he could move, Gerard cupped Frank’s cheek and stole a kiss of his own. He took his time with it, licking Frank’s lips clean. And yes, Grant could wait for that. He loved watching their lips and tongues move, loved, loved the noises Frank made and the way Gerard inhaled when Frank did something he particularly liked.

He wanted Gerard’s noises. He was absolutely sure they would be intoxicating, considering the rest of him. Soon. So soon. Grant had faith in Warren and his mages. The next two days would go by fast and despite Frank’s grumbling, spending time with the dwarves was always a joy, even when they were on business.

Frank and Gerard finally broke apart, grinning at each other. Frank immediately turned to pull Grant in. Grant sighed happily and reached for him. He could still taste himself on Frank’s tongue. Faintly, but it was there.

“I love you,” he murmured against Frank’s lips.

“I love you right back,” Frank said, stroking his cheek.

Grant thought maybe he could spend the rest of his life wrapped up in these two. He felt Gerard getting up, and returning to the bed a few moments later. “All clean?” Grant murmured, suddenly exhausted.

Gerard got back into bed and Grant felt him nod against his shoulder. Grant kissed his forehead. Someone—Grant thought perhaps it was Frank—was tracing lazy circles on Grant’s back.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” Grant mumbled.

Frank giggled. “Lots of times,” he said. “All the time.”

Gerard drowsily patted Grant’s cheek. Grant folded Gerard up in his arms, sighed into his hair, and fell asleep without meaning to.

* * *

Frank never thought he’d be _happy_ to arrive at the entrance to Ben Gowdie, the dwarven city carved into the heart of Mount Gowdan. But he was tired of being on a fucking horse. The journey had been uneventful, even the more difficult ride of the last half-day. Their nightly stops had been highly enjoyable. But the days were long and Frank was really ready to be able to _walk_ places.

Gerard was a bit wide-eyed as they rode up to the gates of Ben Gowdie. He’d never been here before, Frank was pretty sure. It was gorgeous, Frank could admit, carved from stone with flourishes that looked delicate as lace but were incredibly strong. They didn’t have anything like it down in the valleys. Well, perhaps at the palace, which Gerard might have seen, but only as art pieces, not as things considered suitable for daily life. But this was the city of the dwarves, whose craftsmanship and runic art was the stuff of legend.

They weren’t challenged until they had already crossed under the first of the entry arches. Sentries had probably recognized Grant and himself from a long way off. “Nature of your business in the city?” a bored-sounding guard asked.

“Visiting Runemaster Ellis,” Grant replied. He produced the letter with Warren’s seal, which the guard examined.

“Very well,” the guard replied. “Take this to the green gate in the next courtyard and a page will escort you to the Runemaster’s quarters.”

Frank had trouble not rolling his eyes. All this pomp and circumstance over _Warren_. But then, Warren had carved a reputation for himself as surely as Grant had. They were alike in more ways than one. But Frank was in love with Grant and was very much looking forward to the next time they had a chance to fuck. He could not say the same for Warren.

When they reached the courtyard, a stable hand was waiting to take their horses. “Mages and guest, please, follow me,” another dwarf said, appearing in a stone doorway. “Your bags will be transported to quarters.”

Frank held in a sigh and they all followed after as instructed. The stone walls always made him feel a little closed in. Grant put a hand on his back, just lightly. And Gerard knocked their shoulders together as they walked.

Frank smiled. He could feel the warmth spreading from Grant’s hand. That was better. If he was being really honest, he hated the claustrophobia he felt here more than anything else. He thought that perhaps it would be easier to bear, this time, with the two of them beside him.

“Well,” Warren boomed from an open doorway, before Frank had even realized their escort had stopped. “Look what the cat dragged in. Why are you here bothering me _now_ , Morrison?”

Grant chuckled. “I missed your face, Warren. Or, well. What I can see of your face, beneath that beard of yours.”

“Lies. Foul and stinking.” Warren appeared in the doorway. Frank heard Gerard’s indrawn breath.

“You’ve brought someone new,” Warren said with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t say I expected that.”

“A friend,” Grant said, grandly. “I have those, unlike you. Probably because you leave your guests standing around in corridors rather than welcoming them.”

“Little Iero knows he’s not welcome,” Warren retorted.

Frank sent a rude gesture his direction. “See if I ever send you anything when you write asking for ingredients again.”

“I suppose you had better come in,” Warren said, fatalistically.

“How kind,” Grant murmured.

Once the heavy door closed behind them and they were all sitting down, Warren raised an eyebrow at them. “You two wouldn’t have brought a stranger to Ben Gowdie for nothing.”

Frank looked at Gerard. He looked wary: more closed-off than Frank had seen him since their first meeting. “You don’t recognize him, Warren?”

“I’ve hardly been out of Ben Gowdie for the last year. Everyone needs something. Should I recognize him?”

Grant nodded. “This is Skald Gerard Way. He’s the reason we’ve come.”

“The cursed object? The dwarven runes?” Warren asked, looking intrigued, and Grant nodded.

“We were able to retrieve it and remove the rest of the curse residue since I last wrote.”

Frank nodded and handed over all the data they’d collected. Warren took the notebook and skimmed through it. He swore. “That’s some fucking curse.”

“We still haven’t identified the maker,” Frank said. “Any ideas?”

Warren’s lip curled. “Could be several, but my money’s on Moore.”

Grant sighed heavily. “I was very much hoping _not_ to hear that, Ellis.”

Gerard was currently shooting an alarmed look at Warren, and Grant; he turned it on Frank and Frank reached out automatically to take his hand. He ignored Warren’s raised eyebrow.

“He’s… Someone I antagonized quite a bit in my youth. But he’s truly brilliant, if a bit mad. A misanthrope. I can’t see him doing this with any truly political thought backing it. I’d bet he did it for the challenge. I just…hate dealing with him,” Grant explained wearily.

“But we will, if that’s what it takes,” Frank promised quickly, squeezing Gerard’s hand. “ _Whatever_ it takes to break this fucking curse.”

“You’ll let me try my hand at it first, I hope,” Warren said.

“Of course,” Grant said. “If only because you’d be insufferable if we didn’t.”

Warren sniffed. “I _am_ a bloody expert in the field, Mozza.”

“Which is why we’re here,” Grant replied. “And will assist you. Because this is a matter of particular importance.”

Frank knew without looking away from Gerard that Warren’s eyebrows were up near his hairline again. “I’ll call for Jamie,” Warren said.

“Jamie’s the nice one,” Frank mock-whispered to Gerard.

“It’s certainly not you,” Warren retorted.

“Or you,” Frank fired back.

“Yes, but I own my surly disposition,” Warren said.

That was the thing that finally made Grant laugh. “Oh, Warren. It really is good to see you, my friend.”

“One of us has been working,” Warren replied, but Frank could see the hint of a smile.

“We’ve been working,” Frank groused. “I even had to go down to the Bowbridge Conservatory to retrieve the book.”

Warren snorted. “Chasing moonbeams, more like.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Frank said. “Me, moonbeams? They flee in terror.”

Warren laughed. “Moonbeams love your pretty face.” Now Gerard was grinning, too. “I think if your friend could talk, he’d agree with me,” Warren said smugly.

Gerard nodded then, looking sheepish. Frank faked a scowl and Gerard kissed his cheek. _That_ earned a raised eyebrow from Warren, and a laugh from Grant, who came over and kissed Frank’s other cheek.

“Tell me nothing,” Warren warned them all. “I will just make assumptions and then proceed to ignore them.”

Frank giggled just as Jamie came in the room. “Morrison, Iero,” Jamie said, inclining his head. “Welcome back. I see you’ve managed to annoy Runemaster Warren already, so I can cross that off my list.”

“That’s always my primary goal for our visits here,” Frank said.

“You know, it’s good Frank continues to deny his dwarven heritage,” Warren said. “If he didn’t, I’d likely be stuck with both of you and that would be unbearable.”

Frank was working himself up to a retort, but Grant reached over to tug him close. “You love us,” Grant said, airily. “Now, I suppose you’ll want to look at those notes; if you don’t mind, we’ve had a long journey.”

Warren nodded. “Jamie will take you to your rooms and order a meal for you. I’ll expect you all tomorrow morning to discuss. Now… do you have this book with you?”

Gerard had it in his lap, but everything about his demeanor was reluctant. Frank smiled. He’d come a long way in a few days. “We do. Gerard wants it back, though.”

“Of course,” Warren said. “I’ll just need to get a good look at the runes in the cover.” He looked directly at Gerard. “Skald Way, you have my assurance that I will hand it back to you tomorrow.”

Gerard smiled and nodded and they all stood to follow Jamie back to the guest rooms. “We’ll only need one, Jamie,” Grant informed him when they got there.

Jamie, to his credit, didn’t flinch; he just led them to a specific door, as ornately carved as the rest, and drew a rune above the handle. “There. It’s keyed to your personal rune, Grant. And I’ll have a hot supper sent up. Do you need anything else?”

Frank shook his head. “We’re good. Thanks, Jamie. Tell Kieron we say hi.”

“You’ll see him sometime while you’re here, I’m sure,” Jamie said.

“Looking forward to it,” Grant said easily.

Frank nodded. Kieron and Jamie were great and he knew Gerard would like them if he got a chance to hang out with them. For now, though… He tugged Gerard in through the now-open door. He tugged Gerard’s notebook out of his bag and handed it to him with a hopeful smile. He hated not knowing how Gerard was feeling.

 _He seems okay,_ Gerard wrote. _And you two clearly trust him, so I will too._

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Grant said.

“He has some bite,” Frank corrected. “Um. Not that I’ve. Metaphorically. Bite.”

Grant laughed hard and leaned in to kiss him. “I don’t think any of us thought you had, darling.”

Frank kissed back happily. It had been hours since he’d kissed Grant– too long. He’d held himself back for years. He didn’t intend to do that again. “Not my type,” Frank whispered in Grant’s ear.

“I didn’t think so,” Grant replied with a smile and leaned back to kiss Gerard. Gerard melted into it, the tension that he’d been carrying since they approached the gates of the dwarven city falling away from his frame. Frank smiled and wrapped himself around Gerard, dropping kisses wherever he could reach.

“The dwarves do set a good table,” he murmured. “I want to eat a lot, drink a little, and go to bed early.”

Gerard nodded eagerly. “I also approve of this plan,” Grant said.

“Thought you might,” Frank said. “While we wait, though, maybe we could see about washing the dust off?”

Grant murmured something that sounded a lot like, “Obsessed.” He got up and pulled Gerard up too, though, so he clearly was also in favor of cleaning up a bit.

Frank led them through a small doorway and into the bathing area. It was a work of master craftsmanship, like the rest of the guest quarters, and its most prominent feature was a large shallow pool, beautifully tiled, recessed into the floor.

“Hot springs,” he said, having trouble keeping his tone from being too terribly worshipful. Gerard’s expression turned from indulgent to interested. “Yeah,” Frank said. “It’s really great.”

Grant was laughing- at him, Frank knew, but he didn’t care all that much. He was already peeling off his shirt and toeing off his boots.

Grant and Gerard were both undressing too, much more slowly, but Frank was mostly trying to decide how much he’d injure himself if he just straight-out jumped into the pool. He decided in favor of caution and gradually eased himself into the hot, hot water.

He couldn’t hold in a little moan of contentment once he was submerged to his chest. “Fuck, that’s good.”

Grant followed him, pushing himself through the shallow water to straddle Frank’s legs. Grinning somewhat evilly, wreathed in steam, he was mesmerizing.

“Can’t believe this is the first time we’re doing this,” Frank murmured, his hands moving to Grant’s waist.

“First of many,” Grant promised. “That means coming back here,” he pointed out with a sly expression.

Frank huffed. “I’d come here just for the hot springs.”

Gerard slipped into the water beside them, a blissful expression on his face. Grant didn’t move, using his position to explore the lines of Frank’s chest and shoulders. Gerard leaned against Frank’s shoulder and kissed along his jaw.

Frank tilted his head back to give Gerard more access to his neck. The ends of his hair got caught in the water and fanned silkily against his skin. Grant’s hand cupped his cheek and he kissed Frank slowly, hungrily. He was pretty sure he could stay right here forever. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since at least before they left.

Then Grant was pulling back, but he didn’t go far: he turned just far enough to capture Gerard’s lips. “If he wants to bathe, let’s bathe him,” he murmured.

Frank moaned. “Please.” He saw Grant’s lips curve into a smile against Gerard’s.

Grant made his way to the side of the pool and plucked a little phial from a shelf there. Liquid soap, handmade and sweet-smelling. The dwarves spared no comforts. “I’m going to wash your hair,” Grant told Frank.

Frank hummed happily and closed his eyes. Grant’s fingers were in his hair, stroking over his scalp. Gerard’s hands were on his chest and stomach, tracing swirls and strange symbols. He looked down and saw soap bubbles; Gerard’s hand a pale shadow under the water, tracing down, down– oh. He moaned when Gerard’s hand wrapped around his cock. Grant’s fingers were still working over his head and Frank was glad he was sitting because he felt weak. The water, the sensation… the two men pressed against him, taking him apart with their careful touches. Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, and it stuttered out carrying their names. He felt like he was close to the edge already. Every touch brought him closer.

“You love this,” Grant murmured, wonderingly.

“Yes, yes,” Frank whispered. It wasn’t surprising to him, but he hadn’t expected the intensity. Maybe there was something in the water. Or maybe it was just Grant and Gerard. “Imagined this,” Frank gasped.

“Imagined what, darling?”

“Us. Bathing together. Always wanted to,” Frank gasped out.

Gerard’s clever hand kept stroking his cock—long slow pulls that were making him lose his mind. And then Gerard’s other hand was sliding down, cupping Frank’s balls, then nudging at the skin behind them. Frank keened, and Grant kissed him gently and guided him closer to the center of the pool to rinse the suds from his hair.

Frank’s breath came in puffs and he let himself totally relax and trust Grant to keep his face out of the water. “Gerard,” Grant murmured, and Frank felt Gerard pressing close, helping to hold him steady while Grant ran his hands through Frank’s hair.

He felt Gerard touch his cheek and opened his eyes again. Gerard was smiling at him and leaning in to kiss him as his thumb stroked over the head of Frank’s cock. The sensations crashed over him like waves breaking.

“So…good,” he whispered. Grant’s arms were around him and he was sucking the spot just behind Frank’s ear. Gerard kissed him, kisses full of so many words that Frank could taste them.

Frank wrapped dripping arms around his shoulders and held him tight. Gerard continued stroking his cock between them. Frank came a few moments later while Grant held him close and Gerard kept kissing him. Frank was grateful for the arms around him—he was languid, boneless in the aftermath, and he probably would have slipped below the surface of the pool without them.

Grant squeezed when Frank wriggled a little and whispered, “I’ll never let you fall.”

Frank smiled and turned to kiss his cheek. “Sap.”

“About you? Yes,” Grant said.

Gerard huffed a laugh against Frank’s cheek. Frank turned to look him over; his hair was dripping onto his shoulders, his cheeks flushed from the steam. Frank was warm and clean and now that he could think, it was time for him to help take care of the two of them. He started by twisting around until he was straddling Grant’s thighs, pressing a kiss to the cut of his jaw.

Grant sighed in Frank’s ear, an inexpressibly welcome sound. Gerard was back, pressing against their sides. Frank could feel Grant’s cock between them. He wanted nothing more than for Grant to fuck him, but that probably meant getting out of the water and finding a bed.

Gerard kissed his jaw, lingeringly, and then pulled away for a moment. He was back quickly, another little bottle in his hand. He poured it across Grant’s shoulders and started massaging it in. Grant sighed again. Frank loved seeing him so relaxed and content.

“You know what to do with your hands,” Frank told Gerard, grinning.

Gerard lifted his fingers briefly and mimed playing the piano, a smile quirking his lips.

“Point,” Frank said and leaned in to kiss Grant again. He could feel the rumble of Grant’s pleased noises in his chest. “Want you,” he whispered, rubbing his chin against Grant’s shoulder.

“And I, you,” Grant murmured. “So much. And you,” Grant added, turning to press a kiss to Gerard’s lips. Gerard bit his bottom lip. It was time to rinse off and get out of the water, Frank decided.

Frank sluiced a double handful of water over Grant’s shoulders. He pushed himself up and out of Grant’s lap, back towards the middle of the pool. Grant frowned immediately and reached for him.

“I want you in a bed,” Frank murmured. “Time to rinse.”

Gerard was the one who joined him first, ducking quickly under the water.

“You are a cheater,” Frank informed him when he surfaced. Gerard just grinned and Frank went under, swimming down to grab Gerard’s ankle under the water. The result was a lot of spluttering chaos.

By the time they both re-emerged, Grant had retreated to the edge of the pool and was dripping onto the tiles while he took towels out of a cupboard. Frank took a moment to appreciate his arse and the lines of his body. Then Gerard was tugging at him impatiently.

“Okay, okay,” Frank laughed, and allowed himself to be towed to the pool’s edge.

Grant was waiting with a towel for them both. He wrapped Frank up in a hug with the towel and when Frank took hold of it, turned to do the same with Gerard. Gerard’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Grant wrapped him up.

“I don’t know if I want to ask,” Grant murmured, running fingers through Gerard’s wild hair. Gerard grinned up at him and leaned in to kiss him.

The two of them together, wreathed in steam, made a gorgeous picture. And Frank, after all, had already come once. He could maybe afford to watch for a minute.

When they pulled back, Gerard reached for Frank’s hand and tugged. Frank smiled and they all made their way back into the bedroom.

*

Frank always slept soundly when they stayed with the dwarves. It was partially the comfort of the accommodations, and partially the lack of windows in the guest suite. But he’d never before slept quite _so_ soundly as this time, tangled together with Gerard and Grant. He hadn’t had a twinge of claustrophobia since they’d walked in. That was a welcome and refreshing change. His arm was in a weird position and he needed to pee, but it didn’t even matter, he was so well-rested.

He could get used to this. He _wanted_ to get used to this, quite badly. But there were other things that he wanted to do even more. Like hear Gerard talk. He extracted himself from between them and stretched a bit before making his way to the bathroom.

When he made his way back into the bedroom, he found Grant and Gerard kissing sleepily, wrapped around each other. He leaned against the door jamb and cleared his throat.

Gerard pulled back and smiled at Frank over Grant’s shoulder. Frank smiled back. By all the gods, they were beautiful.

“I want to come back over there and join you,” Frank told them, honestly. “But I don’t know if I’d want to get out if bed again, and we have a curse to break.”

Gerard sat straight up at that. Frank grinned and Grant sat up with him, giving them both a smile.

While Gerard and Grant prised themselves out of bed, Frank poked his head out into the hall and asked a page about breakfast. Then he went back into the room and got dressed, only slightly hampered by Grant’s “help.”

By the time there was a knock on the door announcing breakfast, they were all presentable. The page also delivered a note from Warren.

_This was some fucking piece of work, but I’m a bigger one. Eat, then get down here as fast as your overworked carcasses can carry you._

Gerard bit his lip and took a deep breath through his nose. Frank could tell he was trying not to get his hopes up. Frank was too, truth be told. They were willing to go to the elves if they needed to, but it’d be really great if they could break the curse here with Warren.

“Breakfast first,” Grant said. “Then to the workshop.”

The dwarven pages moved quickly, and soon the table was set. Gerard hooked a delicate finger through the handle of the coffee pot and tugged it towards himself. Frank smiled and dished himself up a plateful of food while he waited his turn with the coffee.

As they ate, Gerard scribbled in his notebook. _Have you been here many times before?_

Frank nodded. “Twice a year or so.”

“Warren is our best resource for several important ingredients we use frequently as well as being an expert on curses,” Grant explained. “Curses and a whole host of other things. Particularly the odd things.”

“And the insults,” Frank muttered.

“You know he doesn’t mean a word of it,” Grant laughed.

“Does _he_?” Frank replied, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth.

“It’s when he doesn’t tease that you know he thinks nothing of you,” Grant said.

Gerard laughed at that, shoulders silently shaking. Frank hoped beyond hope that whatever breakthrough Warren had waiting for them would mean he could _hear_ Gerard’s laughter.

Grant took advantage of his distraction to steal the coffee for Frank, and they quickly finished their meal.

They made their way back to Warren’s workroom through the maze of hallways. Gerard was clearly fascinated by the intricate carving and metalworking, though his curious it’s didn’t quite mask his nerves. They passed several door guards, who obviously remembered them and recognized that they knew where they were going.

When they entered Warren’s workshop, he looked up at them with a giant smirk. “I stayed up the whole night for your curse, but I’ve got the counterspells. And _very_ lucky for you we recently had an envoy from the bloody elves.” Gerard’s hand, which had found its way into Frank’s as they walked, tightened. “Mind, I’ll need to do a few tuning spells to make sure I have my runes right,” Warren said. “You lot can help with those.”

“Of course,” Grant said. “Was it -”

“Bloody Moore? I have my suspicions. I based the counterspell on one I did years back for one of his curses, so let’s hope so. The elven ingredients are one of his tricks, for sure.”

Grant sighed. “Thank you, Warren.”

“I’m impressed you were able to decode it as far as you did,” Warren said seriously. “I couldn’t have gotten far without you doing the groundwork.”

“What do you need us to do now?” Frank asked, eager. He squeezed Gerard’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Frank, you can draw the circle. Grant can start on the potion base.” Gerard pulled away toward the chair in the corner. “We’ll need you in the center of the circle eventually,” Warren told Gerard.

Gerard nodded, but he still moved to the chair, pulling out his notebook as he went. He scrawled something and held it out for Warren to read. Frank craned to look too. _Potion?_

“He’s not a fan,” Frank explained to Warren.

“Afraid so,” Warren replied. “This curse requires every sort of magic to break.”

Gerard made a face, but nodded. Grant, who was closer to Gerard than Frank was, gave him a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll get it sorted out.”

Warren caught Frank watching and smirked. Frank just smirked back. His life was pretty fucking good and he wasn’t going to take any of Warren’s shit.

They moved quickly together to get the spell set up. Frank was wiping the charcoal off of his hands when Grant announced that the potion base was complete.

“Good,” Warren said, barely looking up from where he was arranging small tokens in between Frank’s marks. “Go get the elven weeds.”

Frank shook his head at Gerard. They weren’t weeds, but carefully collected—sometimes greenhouse-grown—magical plants and herbs. “Yes, extremely expensive weeds.”

Warren’s scoff left it very clear what he thought about that. Warren, Frank knew, had never been a fan of elven magic.

Grant opened the cabinets and began fetching boxes and jars, moving aside to make room for Warren after the dwarven mage finished his own work. Frank prepared the elven ingredients. Warren claimed they made his hands itch.

As he worked, Frank felt Gerard’s eyes on him. He was twitchy with anxiety, Frank could tell. They could only reassure him so much. Frank had faith that Warren’s countercurse would work. He’d never seen Warren fail. But Frank was fairly certain that Gerard would be nervous until he heard the sound of his own voice. The best thing he could do for Gerard right now was to do his best with these spells.

Finally, they finished their preparations and Warren beckoned for Gerard. He carefully set his notebook on the chair. Frank noticed his hands were shaking.

“Hey,” Frank said, reaching out to tug Gerard close. “It’s going to be fine, Gee. Promise.”

Gerard nodded slowly and stepped into the cast circle. Grant squeezed his shoulders and he stepped back. Warren handed Gerard a small glass phial.

“First, the potion on my command. Then I’ll draw some runes here and there, then the three of us will finish with a spell.” Gerard nodded, sucking in a deep breath. Warren made a rune in the air, and Frank felt the circle’s power hum to life. “Good,” Warren muttered to himself. “All right, Skald.”

Gerard inspected the phial for only a moment before tipping it back and swallowing the contents. He made a terrible face and Frank laughed as Warren started drawing rune after rune in the air. Each shone for a brief moment before vanishing.

The power on the room started crackling. It was obvious when the potion activated, because Gerard started glowing faintly around his eyes and fingernails. Frank couldn’t even imagine what all three of them casting in tandem would do. And this was just a tuning spell: not even the main counterspell itself.

When Warren was satisfied with everything he nodded, and they spoke the counterspell together. The entire circle started glowing and Gerard’s throat lit up. He was clearly still a little afraid, but he’d clenched his fists and was standing firm. Lit up from the inside, he looked unearthly.

The next part was more spoken words, laying on of hands. They completed that in turn, each reaching through the circle at prescribed spots to press fingers to Gerard’s temples, throat, chest. The elven herbs started smoking as the curses effects began draining from Gerard’s body and into them. Frank felt a swell of triumph. It was _working_.

They spoke the final words of the spell and the elven herbs blazed into fire and ash. Frank just barely kept himself from jumping, but Warren nodded, picked up a diamond-like crystal from a spot in the circle and gestured for Grant and Frank to touch it. He spoke a few sharp words in the dwarven tongue and then held it out to Gerard, pressing it lightly to his lips. “Breathe,” he ordered.

Gerard breathed out, but the crystal just sparkled, clear and beautiful.

“Well, go on,” Warren said. “Say thank you.”

Gerard took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he croaked. A wide grin spread across his face and he cleared his throat. “Thank you so fucking much,” he gasped, and he flung himself forward into Grant’s waiting arms. Frank let out a whoop and surged forward, wrapping himself around the pair of them.

He heard Warren sniff as he started to clear away the mess of ashes and spell components, sighing gustily every time he had to step around them. Frank didn’t give a fuck. Gerard was babbling his thanks over and over between kisses. His voice was scratchy, rusty from disuse, but Frank had never heard anything so fucking sweet.

“Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” he chanted, turning in Grant’s arms to face Frank. “Oh my god, you did it.”

“Promised,” Frank told him, smiling. “Would have done more. Would have gone to the fucking elves ourselves.” He couldn’t look away from Gerard’s face—the expressive eyes shining with tears, the lips parted and curved in a delighted smile. Gerard looked away first, but only to thank Warren again.

Warren waved a dismissive hand. “It was actually a fun project. Better than the stupidity they usually send me.”

Gerard laughed– actually laughed, finally, and Frank had to pull him close and kiss him again. He wanted to taste Gerard’s joy.

Warren was still grumbling. “The audacity, to use dwarven runes and elven herbs together like that. I’ll fix him.”

Frank heartily agreed, but he was busy kissing Gerard. It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Frank grinned against Gerard’s mouth. Now that Gerard had started talking, he didn’t seem to want to stop, murmuring against Frank’s lips. When Grant cupped a hand around Gerard’s cheek, angling his head so that Grant could kiss him, Gerard breathed, “Grant…”

“Say it again,” Grant murmured back.

“ _Grant_ ,” Gerard said. His voice was full of so much feeling.

“You have rooms,” Warren said, pointedly, from somewhere behind them. “And tonight, I will host you all for dinner. But for right now, get out.”

Gerard giggled then, high and loud. Frank couldn’t help but giggle with him. “You have all of our thanks, Runemaster,” Grant said formally, but he rather ruined the effect by grabbing hold of their hands and pulling them out of the workshop.

Frank was actually exhausted. He always lost track of time when he was spellcasting. But every single inch of his skin felt alive. Gerard was still babbling as they made their way back to their rooms.

“And I can _sing_ again. I mean, I’ll have to do so many fucking vocal exercises. You’re gonna get so sick of them, but oh my god…”

“So you’re gonna stick around?” Frank asked. He was aiming for casual, but he had a feeling he’d missed.

Gerard stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed, then pounced, backing Frank up against the corridor wall. “Frank. Frankie. You’d better fucking believe it.”

Frank slid his arms around Gerard’s neck and grinned. “Good. Because if you wanted to leave, we’d have a really fucking hard time letting you go.”

“We?” Gerard asked, biting his lip and glancing at Grant like he was making sure.

“ _We_ are fearsome mages, after all. With a dungeon,” Grant said lightly.

Gerard laughed. “You don’t have a dungeon. I’d have seen it by now.”

“You’re awfully confident,” Grant said, leaning in to kiss him. Frank was still pressed against the wall, and he enjoyed the view.

“Go ahead,” Gerard mumbled. “Lock me up. Just give me my instruments and you, and I’ll be fine.”

Grant smiled. “Excellent priorities.”

“Speaking of priorities…” Frank said, pushing them gently towards the door to their rooms.

“You do keep him on track, don’t you,” Gerard said over his shoulder.

“Both of you, at the moment,” Frank replied. Fuck, it was so nice to be able to hear his little comments, but Frank was sure he’d have known what Gerard meant to say just from the quirk of his eyebrow. Frank smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Let’s go. That nice bed is still too far away.”

When they finally made it back to the suite, Frank practically tackled Gerard onto the bed.

“Say something else,” he mumbled, pressing his face against Gerard’s throat.

He felt Gerard’s laugh against his lips. “I’m so glad I came to you,” he said. “I almost went to Gaiman, but something drew me to you two.”

“I’m so fucking glad,” Frank told him. “If it hadn’t been for you…” He trailed off and reached out to touch Grant’s chest.

“You two needed so much help,” Gerard declared.

Frank laughed. “I mean. I like to think we’d have gotten it eventually. Having you around just made it more…urgent.”

“Much more urgent,” growled Grant. He pushed Frank down onto the bed beside Gerard and kissed him, kissed him.

“You two know how to take the air out of a room,” Gerard told them softly, ghosting a hand over Frank’s hair.

Frank turned and kissed Gerard’s hand. “Fuck, I love hearing you talk.”

Gerard laughed and pressed close, mouth finding any skin he could reach. “Good, because I talk all the time,” he drawled.

Grant laughed too. “Somehow, I’m not surprised by that.”

“I’m good at it,” Gerard laughed. He bit at the skin of Frank’s throat, and Frank groaned. “I want to fuck you,” he whispered against the reddened skin.

“Yes. Fuck,” Frank gasped.

“I desperately want to see that,” Grant said, voice low and hot and unbearably sexy. “I want to hear how you sound together.”

Frank shuddered. “Yes.” He groped for Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard took it off and shoved his pants off too. “You now,” he demanded, his own fingers finding the hem of Frank’s shirt and tugging upwards. “And Grant, you- the two of you are so fucking gorgeous. I want to _tell_ you.”

“Tell us anything you want,” Grant murmured, stripping off his shirt and stretching out on one side of the wide mattress.

“So many things,” Gerard said. “Too fucking many. Got so tired of writing.”

“Nothing like that will ever happen to you again,” Grant told him. It had the weight of a promise—one that Frank knew Grant would move mountains to keep.

Gerard leaned in to kiss him, gently. “I was constantly so in awe of you. Your kindness. You dropped everything to help me. I should tell the queen to give you a commendation.”

Frank bit at the side of Gerard’s neck. Gerard made a gorgeous, breathy noise and tilted his head back so Frank could do it again. Frank did it again, because he wanted to hear a repeat of that noise. Gerard obliged him. Fuck, he sounded gorgeous.

“Knew it,” Frank mumbled into Gerard’s neck.

“Knew what? That I liked it?”

“That you’d sound as amazing as you look,” Frank told him. He squirmed around until he could get a leg around Gerard’s.

Gerard sighed happily at the increased contact and slid his hands into Frank’s hair. “Frankie,” he whispered.

Frank nipped at his throat once more for good measure and then returned to his lips, only to find Grant already there. He watched their lips move together and listened to all the little noises Gerard was producing in his throat. He moved to Grant’s throat again, nipping his way all the way up to Grant’s ear. “Get me ready,” he suggested in a whisper.

Grant moaned and pulled away from Gerard to reach for the bottle on the bedside table. Frank knew he didn’t need much; Grant had fucked him just last night. But he loved it, and Gerard loved to watch. Frank turned over and got on his knees, leaning down on his elbows. Gerard bit his lip and moved around so he could see better.

“Frankie,” he murmured as Grant touched his hip lightly and slid his fingers down Frank’s spine. “Gods, you’re gorgeous. I know you hate to hold still, but you hold still for this, and I -”

Frank moaned when Grant slowly pushed a finger into him. “Yes,” Frank gasped. “Need to feel it.”

Gerard carded his fingers through Frank’s hair and tugged. Frank moaned again. Every time they’d been together so far had been amazing, but this felt more…Frank didn’t even have the words.

“So good,” Grant whispered, adding a finger.

Frank moaned again, louder this time. He wanted Gerard’s cock so fucking bad, but Grant was so good with his fingers. If he just pushed back a little bit…. Frank bit back his gasp and shifted, leaning down to take the head of Gerard’s cock in his mouth.

Gerard moaned and his fingers tightened where they were still resting in Frank’s hair. Yes, this was perfect. Grant sped up his hand while Frank let his mouth and tongue explore. Gerard gasped and moaned under his mouth. When Grant added a third finger, Frank moaned around him.

“Frank,” Gerard whimpered. “Don’t, if you want this to last.” Frank pulled back and pouted. Gerard chuckled and ran a thumb over his mouth. “Maybe you can suck off Grant while I’m fucking you,” he suggested.

“I say yes,” Grant added from behind them, voice rough.

“Okay,” Frank agreed and thrust his hips back against Grant’s fingers. He stifled another moan. “Gee,” he begged.

Gerard moved out from under him and Grant took his place. He kissed Grant swiftly, then sat up to do the same to Gerard, leaning back into him and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. Gerard ran his hands over Frank’s chest and down to his hips. His fingers rested so close to Frank’s cock, but he didn’t touch. And Frank was so, so hard. Gerard was, too—Frank could feel Gerard’s cock pressing up against his spine and he pushed back automatically, angling his hips so it would slide down between his cheeks.

Gerard moaned into his ear. “Fuck, Frankie. Bend down. Let me…”

“Yeah,” Frank breathed, stealing one more kiss. He let Gerard guide him with a hand spread across his back, the other tugging at Frank’s hip until he was spread open. Waiting. He didn’t have to wait long.

He pushed in slow and steady. Frank had to lean his forehead against Grant’s hip and moan. “Yeah,” Gerard said roughly. “Oh, gods. Frankie, I…love this.”

Frank laughed breathlessly. “Really? I had no clue.”

“I’ve never– you’re _perfect,_ ” Gerard said.

“I have to agree,” Grant murmured. Frank couldn’t say anything to that, so he just rubbed his face against Grant and pushed back against Gerard’s cock. That startled a moan out of Gerard. Grant slid his fingers into Frank’s hair and directed his mouth toward his cock. Frank was happy to oblige.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasped, hips pumping hard as he found a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, Frankie. You’re so fucking- fuck, I can’t even-”

Frank whimpered. His _voice_. Every time he said Frank’s name, Frank’s cock jumped. He swirled his tongue around the head of Grant’s cock, closed his eyes and focused on the sound of Gerard’s voice.

“The two of you are so beautiful,” Gerard gasped. “I wanted you so fucking bad. Couldn’t believe it when– fuck, I’m so glad–” He whimpered again and gripped Frank’s hips tighter, thrusting hard and steady.

Frank moaned around Grant’s cock. At this rate, he was going to come before he ever got Grant all the way in his mouth.

“So good,” Grant murmured, cupping Frank’s cheek.

Frank breathed through his nose and took him in further. If one of them would just touch him… But no, he thought. He wanted to concentrate on them for a minute. He breathed deep through his nose and worked his tongue against the base of Grant’s cock.

“Tell me how he feels, Gerard,” Grant commanded.

“Tight,” Gerard whispered. “So warm. So fucking gorgeous, too. These tattoos….” Frank moaned and Gerard gave him a hard thrust. “I can feel him trembling. It’s… fuck.”

“Keep talking,” Grant said. “You sound like you’re getting close. Are you?”

“I can… keep going,” Gerard gasped. Frank thought he was lying. He could feel Gerard trembling too. He swallowed around Grant’s cock, fingers biting into Grant’s hips. “You’re both so fucking perfect,” Gerard gasped.

His hands roamed up and down Frank’s sides. Frank pushed back into his thrusts, trying to reply. He felt so fucking good. His lips were going numb from the movement of Grant’s cock and even that felt good because he knew it was good for Grant. And hearing Gerard starting to lose his words, stuttering out broken moans and curses… It was almost too much. Frank’s eyes drifted shut, and he just let himself feel.

With a sigh, Gerard folded down over Frank’s back, snapping his hips and kissing Frank’s shoulders. That was even better. Frank reached a hand up and shoved his fingers into Gerard’s hair. Gerard gasped, and then he swore loudly. Frank felt Grant’s fingers join his own.

“Do you like this?” Grant asked, sounding breathless.

“Not as much…as teeth,” Gerard laughed. “But yeah. Fuck.”

“We’ll be sure to keep both those things in mind,” Grant replied. Frank moaned and nodded a bit in agreement.

“Next time,” Gerard laughed, breathless and sounding just this side of desperate. “Next- oh fuck, _fuck_ -” He trailed off into a helpless whimper and Frank tightened his fingers as he felt Gerard buck and come.

Frank gasped around Grant’s cock at the feel of it, but quickly went back to sucking as Gerard shuddered against him. He could hear Grant and Gerard kissing. Gerard’s hips were still kicking, as he shuddered through the aftershocks.

He could feel Gerard sit up, then Grant was tugging at his shoulders. Frank didn’t want to stop sucking, but he let Grant pull him off and up. Gerard was there, grabbing for him and kissing the fuck out of him as soon as he could reach.

“Frankie,” he murmured when he pulled away. “Let Grant, both of you, together, for me.” His fingers skimmed Frank’s cock, and they both gasped. Frank looked over at Grant, then climbed into his lap.

Gerard helped position Grant’s cock, and Frank sunk down on it fast and hard. They both moaned, and Gerard gasped, “Fuck, you two are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” He pressed in close to them both, kissing Grant and wrapping a hand around Frank’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Frank moaned. He’d been wanting it and now that he had Gerard’s hand, it was everything he’d hoped for. Grant started rolling his hips up and Frank moved with him, thrusting into Gerard’s hand. “Love,” he gasped. It was the only word he could find. Fuck if it didn’t apply to them both.

Frank kept moving. He leaned down to kiss Frank, then Gerard again when he sat back up. He could feel Grant slowly beginning to lose control beneath him. He rocked down, hard, gasping and tossing his head back at the stretch.

Gerard’s hand kept working him, his lips resting on Frank’s shoulder as he moved. He kept up a steady stream of curses and praise. “Come for Grant,” he urged. “Let him feel you.”

Frank moaned, Gerard slid his thumb over the head of Frank’s cock, and he came. Grant gasped and bucked and thrust up sharply. Frank grasped his shoulders and pressed their lips together. He felt Gerard’s hands roam over their arms and shoulders. He kept telling them over and over how beautiful they were like that.

Grant moaned into Frank’s mouth as he finally let himself go. Frank could feel it, and he whimpered quietly. It was almost too much, but he refused to let Grant move. The magical power in the room swirled around them, buzzing against their skin.

“Feels amazing,” Gerard gasped, dropping kisses wherever he could. “The two of you are so amazing, fuck. I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“Tell us anytime,” Grant laughed, hands settling on Frank’s waist.

“I will, don’t worry,” Gerard replied.

Frank took a deep breath and pulled off Grant, flopping down at his side and pushing Gerard over. Gerard squawked and laughed. Frank grinned and stuck his face in Gerard’s neck, kissing the hollow of his throat. “Keeping you,” he murmured.

“How many times do I have to tell you that’s alright?” Gerard asked, amused.

“Until I get sick of hearing you say it,” Frank replied.

“Okay,” Gerard replied. Frank could tell he was smiling. Grant slung an arm over Frank’s waist. He leaned in to kiss just underneath Frank’s ear. Frank smiled into Gerard’s neck. Everything was perfect.

Gerard’s fingertips traced idle patterns on Frank’s back. Despite how well he’d slept the night before, Frank still felt sleepy and content. He let himself bask in how wonderful he felt.

“I knew you’d do it,” Gerard said, after long moments of contented quiet. “I was afraid, at first. But I knew you would do it.”

“We couldn’t fail you,” Frank murmured.

“It was too important to you,” Grant said.

“You know, I sort of got used to it?” Gerard confided. “I…it was still annoying sometimes and I _wanted_ to talk, but I could have lived that way if I had to.”

“I prefer this,” said Grant, kissing Gerard’s shoulder.

“Me too,” Gerard said fervently. “But I realized I could have managed and I think that was good, maybe.”

“We still understood you,” Frank told him.

“That’s what made it okay,” Gerard replied and kissed the top of Frank’s head. Frank smiled against Gerard’s neck.

“I do look forward to hearing you perform,” Grant said softly.

“Every word will be dedicated to the two of you,” Gerard promised. Frank grinned and they all fell silent for several moments. “Dammit,” Gerard said.

“What?” Grant asked.

“Now that my brain isn’t stuck worrying about my voice, I. Um. I have a lot of work to do still. Shit.”

“You have a bit of time left,” Grant said reassuringly.

“Good thing I feel so inspired,” Gerard replied. He sounded smug, but Frank knew how he felt.

Frank smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat. They had the entire day for more of this. He intended to make the most of it.

Frank was sure his expression was just as smug as Gerard’s had been when they finally sat down to dinner with Warren that night. Warren caught him at it and rolled his eyes expressively. Over the next few minutes, Jaime and Kieron trickled in and a few more whose faces Frank recognized.

Once everyone was seated, Gerard raised his glass to Warren. “To you, Runemaster, for your help and your fine hospitality. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing your composition at the Centennial,” Warren replied. Frank was impressed. Warren hated going to the Capitol. He’d probably been invited to the Centennial officially, but Frank was pretty sure he wouldn’t be arsed to go unless there was the promise of more than just a lot of official royal functions to attend. Frank supposed Gerard was a pretty big draw.

“Gerard was hoping to study some of the dwarven historical records during our stay,” Grant mentioned.

Gerard nodded, and Kieron lit up. “I can show you the record rooms,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, by the way.”

“It’s my honor to be your guest,” Gerard replied immediately.

Kieron smiled wide. “I’ll take you down after dinner. All of my pet projects live in those rooms.”

“I hope I’m also included in that invitation,” Grant said. His tone was light, but Frank could hear the meaning beneath the question: neither of them were particularly willing to let Gerard out of their sight at the moment. But Kieron just laughed.

“Of course, Grant. I want to see what you think about my latest find.”

“Frank?” Gerard queried.

“I think I’ll have Jamie point me towards a likely tavern,” Frank said. “Let you work in peace.”

“I know just the place,” Jaime said. “They have amazing music too, so maybe I’ll just come with you.”

“I suppose I’ll have to come and keep you both out of trouble,” Warren grumbled.

Frank sighed loudly. “Is it too late to change my mind?” He could barely hold back his laugh, though, at the torn expression on Gerard’s face at the mention of music. “Meet us there later? And I’ll take you to my favorite place for music when we get home. How about it?” Frank offered.

Gerard grinned at him. “Sounds perfect.”

Frank supposed it did.

* * *

Gerard sang the final note, and it hung in the air of the near-silent courtyard for a long, long moment. Then the applause started. First with the queen, with more than characteristic enthusiasm, then spreading through the crowd.

He didn’t have to look to know that Frank and Grant were among the first who started cheering. But it was gratifying all the same, all of those voices lifted together, ringing out because of Gerard’s words.

Gerard closed the book on his podium, inlaid design glinting in the bright lights of the great hall. The ship still looked as appealing as it did the first time he saw it, when it cursed him. Now, it meant triumph, it meant joy, it meant everything. Frank had already gotten it tattooed on his back.

He stepped forward to the dais where Queen Lindsey sat, bowing low. She extended her hand and allowed him to kiss her ring, then murmured, “I can tell your months of seclusion have agreed with you, Skald. That was tremendous.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said with a smile. “At times, I felt as if I could never finish, and all would be lost.”

“Your kingdom is most grateful that your fears proved unfounded,” the queen smiled. “That piece is your greatest work yet, Skald.”

“I hope to give you many more,” he replied with a genuine smile.

“I hope that as well,” she replied. “I understand you intend to stay in the country? The Capitol shall miss you.”

“I’ll return often, my queen,” Gerard promised. “But… I am inspired now to create in a way I never have been before.”

“I am glad,” she replied. “Now, please, join us at the reception and greet your adoring public.”

“Of course, Highness,” he replied and stepped back. He took one more bow to the audience and went to find his seat.

Grant and Frank were there, dressed in their finest. And finest was accurate. Everyone around them was staring at them in awe. Possibly fear. Grant would probably appreciate a healthy mix of both. They were beautiful, though. Gerard had been surprised at how easily Frank took to the formal dress, but he’d just waved a hand and said he got used to it because his mother made him go to temple daily as a child.

They were a tempting sight, especially as Gerard felt flushed with the success of his performance. The queen had said a fateful word– reception. Gerard would have to exercise his patience. Frank, though. Frank would be another matter. He’d probably take the word “reception” as a challenge. Gerard hid a grin in his collar.

The rest of the Centennial ceremony passed in a riot of color and music. Gerard had expected nothing less, given what he knew of the queen. He smiled at the performance by the dwarven contingent; it was the same troupe Jamie had taken him to see, and they were only better since then. There wasn’t one sour note in the entire ceremony, apart from perhaps the slightly long-winded chancellor’s speech.

Finally it was finished, and the queen had made her grand exit, followed by the nobles. As the rest of them stood, Frank pulled Gerard into a tight hug.

“You were amazing,” he whispered. “The highlight of the celebration.”

Gerard preened and hugged him back as tight as he could. “I only managed it because of you. And Grant.” Grant, who was right there at their side, his hand resting at the small of Gerard’s back as he leaned in for a kiss.

“I am proud to have been able to play some small part,” he murmured.

“It’s not a small part,” Gerard joked, eyeing him, feeling flushed with goodwill.

Grant’s smile changed into a smirk. “Am I correct in assuming we have another function to attend?”

“The reception,” Gerard told him, laughing at Frank’s noise of dismay.

“I look forward to it,” Grant said, because Grant was actually wicked.

Gerard grinned. “It should be fun. Good food. Good drinks for you two…”

“Everyone telling you how amazing you are,” Frank added, kissing his cheek. “And then afterwards, that big bed in the guest suite…”

“I am a little tired,” Gerard said thoughtfully.

“If you’re tired, we could leave now,” Frank suggested hopefully.

Gerard sighed heavily and waited a beat, long enough for Frank’s face to fall. “I promised the Queen. I didn’t promise how long I’d stay, though.”

“Come on,” Grant laughed. “Time to meet your adoring public. You can tell them over and over again how your seclusion in the country has helped inspire you.”

“It’s only the truth,” Gerard told him, leaning into Grant’s hand, enjoying the small tingle of magic Grant couldn’t quite control. It was a heady feeling to know he provoked that reaction in such a powerful, controlled mage. It had only been two months, but he didn’t think he was ever going to get used to it. Nor did he want to. If it was possible, he was more amazed by them now than he had been before.

The reception was already bustling with activity when they walked inside. Almost instantly, there was someone sidling up with a simpering smile. “Skald Way, what a performance!”

Gerard could be gracious, because most of them didn’t simper. He’d just get this one out of the way. “Thank you,” he replied pleasantly.

The man leaned in a little closer. “You are truly a _masterful_ artist,” he said.

Oh no. He was one of those. It was maybe Gerard’s own fault. He used to encourage that type of behavior. But that was– _before._ “Thank you,” he said again and reached for whichever hand was closest to his. It turned out to be Frank’s. Frank laced their fingers together, and Gerard felt Grant’s hand rest lightly at the small of his back—a comforting presence, as Grant stood tall at his side.

Gerard snuck a look at Frank, who was glaring. The man’s eyes went wide, then his face evened back into obsequiousness. Gerard suppressed his own smile as the man bowed low and excused himself—likely to go and find another person of importance to play the sycophant to.

Frank leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Are we expecting more of that?”

“Probably,” Gerard said sheepishly.

“You’re a big deal,” Frank said with a grin. “We get it.”

“But I’d rather be here with the two of you than with anybody else,” Gerard told them. “Those people– they love the things I make, but you two…”

“We love _you_ ,” Grant murmured, cupping his hand around Gerard’s cheek.

Gerard smiled, overwhelmed. “And I love you.”

“C’mon. I smell food,” Frank said with a smile.

“Let’s go then,” Grant agreed. “And Warren must be around here somewhere.” He was, in fact, with a little group of his own admirers. Gerard laughed. Frank huffed beside him, but Gerard knew he didn’t care, not really.

When Warren saw them, he favored Gerard with a genuine smile. “Skald, what a pleasure to hear your performance.” He shook Gerard’s hand.

“Thank you, Runemaster. I saw your performers briefly backstage and told them again how pleased I was that they came.”

“How could they not, with a personal invitation from the queen?” Warren said. “I’d suspect someone with her ear did a bit of whispering to arrange that.” He raised a brow at Gerard.

“Maybe a small amount of whispering,” Gerard allowed.

Warren actually laughed. He had a tumbler of what Gerard suspected was the palace’s finest reserve whiskey, and seemed to have relaxed his irritable persona for the occasion. He slung an arm around Grant’s shoulders. “I believe you could be said to be the luckiest men in the kingdom. Barring myself, of course.”

“I happen to agree,” Grant responded with a smile. “And my, you _are_ in a good mood.”

“Tell no-one,” Warren warned, cheerfully. “I’ll transfigure you into a stalactite.”

“Are those the ones that go up or down?” Grant questioned. “Never mind. I have better things to be doing.” He smirked. Everyone laughed.

“As do we all. Gerard, there are people hovering. I think they want to speak to you,” Warren said.

“Your public awaits,” Frank said, kissing Gerard on the cheek.

Gerard smiled and headed over to say hello. These people were almost entirely acquaintances who complimented him and then left. He liked them better. There were even a few people here representing the Bowbridge Conservatory. He was pleased to note that Daniels was _not_ among them.

Jon was. Gerard grinned delightedly to see him and went to give him a hearty embrace. “And here’s Frank!” Jon exclaimed when he pulled back. “Who I was sorry not to be able to spend more time with when he visited the conservatory.”

“Great to see you again,” Frank said happily.

“You owe us another visit,” Jon told him. “Both of you.”

“All three of us,” Gerard corrected and pulled Grant forward.

“Of course, you must be Grant Morrison,” Jon said, reaching out a hand. “Gerard has been quite effusive about you two in his letters, you know.”

“Has he, now,” Grant grinned. “That’s gratifying.”

“Course I have,” Gerard said and kissed Grant’s cheek.

“And you have my thanks for everything you did to help Gerard,” Jon said, pitching his voice a little bit lower.

“I would have done whatever it took,” Grant replied quietly. Gerard felt a little frisson of magic from where Grant was still touching him.

“It’s no less than he deserves,” Jon said seriously.

“We know,” Frank promised.

Gerard blushed, like no other praise he’d heard tonight had made him blush. He pressed a hand to his cheek and he couldn’t stop smiling. He had amazing people in his life.

They ended up staying longer at the reception than Gerard had anticipated they would. Grant seemed to know nearly as many people there as Gerard did, and Frank behaved better than expected. Grant and Gerard would have to reward him.

Finally, though, Gerard found himself utterly unable to wait any longer. It was certainly late enough to slip out without undue attention. They didn’t have a long way to go to get to their quarters and Gerard was grateful for that.

He got the feeling that Frank and Grant shared his sentiments—especially when Frank barely waited until the door had closed behind them to press Gerard against the wall and kiss the fuck out of him. Gerard gasped and got his hands into Frank’s hair. They kissed like that, Gerard’s back against the wall, for a long time. Grant seemed content to press close, hands roaming over their skin. Gerard was very, very content to let him. He was sparking off magic again.

“You were magnificent,” Grant whispered in his ear. “Perfect. Frank and I wanted to ravish you right there.” Frank hummed his agreement into Gerard’s mouth. “You may have anything you want tonight,” Grant murmured, tugging on Gerard’s earlobe with his teeth.

“What if I want everything?” he whispered against Frank’s lips.

“Then it’s yours,” Grant told him, smiling.

“Being specific would help,” Frank said dryly, moving his lips to Gerard’s neck.

“Want to suck you while Grant fucks me,” Gerard said. “How’s that for specific?”

“Perfect,” Grant told him, claiming a kiss of his own. Gerard happily opened his mouth. He’d had to be careful of his throat, these past weeks. It had been frustrating, to say the least.

As they kissed, Grant started removing Gerard’s ceremonial robe. Gerard felt Frank’s eager hands helping with his buttons. He worked fast, but carefully.

Gerard let him take the robe and fold it over a chair. The two of them were wearing heavily embroidered mage’s robes as well, and Gerard hadn’t gotten nearly enough time to look at the intricacy of the designs, but now wasn’t the time either.

Despite the elaborate clothing, they were all fully undressed in a short amount of time. Gerard let them press him down onto the ridiculously ornate bed. He caught Grant around the waist and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you both so fucking much. I’m only here because of you,” he murmured.

“We’re here because of you,” Grant replied, stretching and settling his full weight over top of Gerard.

Gerard sighed happily and wrapped his arms around Grant’s neck. “I’m really glad of that.”

“So am I,” Frank declared, sprawling beside them. He reached over and traced Gerard’s lips with a fingertip. Gerard pressed his lips against his finger and sucked it into his mouth. Frank moaned.

“Do you want to suck Frank while I get you ready?” Grant asked, low.

Gerard nodded, letting go of Frank’s finger with a pop. Grant moved off his body and Gerard rolled over onto his knees. Frank put a pillow against the headboard and moved to lean against it. He let his legs splay wide, and Gerard grinned and crawled between them, leaning down to lick at the skin of Frank’s belly.

“You taste good,” Gerard murmured.

Frank smiled up at him. “Good. Taste me more.” Gerard laughed and slid up to slide his tongue around Frank’s nipple.

“Not what I meant,” Frank complained, even as he arched up into the touch.

Gerard laughed against his skin. “Faker. You fucking love it.” He certainly did. And he was going to take his time.

Grant’s hands slid over his arse and Gerard gasped against Frank’s chest. “Be loud, love,” Grant said. “We want to hear you.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Gerard murmured. He looked up to see Frank’s smirk and bit his nipple lightly. Frank just moaned.

While Gerard set about making Frank moan again, Grant traced a finger lightly over Gerard’s hole. Gerard let out a long, gusting breath. “Grant,” he sighed.

Grant kissed the small of his back and kept stroking soft and slow. Gerard tried to catch his breath and switched to Frank’s other nipple. Frank tangled his fingers gently in Gerard’s hair. Gerard pushed his head against Frank’s hand and moved his mouth back down Frank’s soft stomach.

Frank’s happy sigh turned into a moan when Gerard nuzzled his cock. Grant pushed into Gerard with two fingers, and Gerard gasped out a moan of his own into Frank’s thigh.

“Grant,” he groaned. “Oh, fuck, how did you -” He needed it exactly like that. Fast and a little rough, Grant’s fingers long and clever. He took a deep breath and leaned down to take Frank’s cock in his mouth. Now that they’d started in earnest, he knew it would be fast and hard.

“Yeah, Gee, more,” Frank hummed, arching his hips up. Gerard let his eyes drift closed, concentrating on the feel of Frank in his mouth, Grant’s fingers in his ass. Frank was hot, and hard, and filled his mouth perfectly. Gerard didn’t go easy on him; he used every trick he knew. Frank clenched his fingers in Gerard’s hair and moaned. Grant gave him another finger.

It fucking amazed Gerard how well they knew his body, even after only a few months. Together, they could take him apart completely and put him back together, and he loved every second of it. He loved it– not more, no, but differently when they brought magic into it. Being with them like this when they used magic often made him feel as if he had magic too, if only for a few moments.

“You’re ready, aren’t you?” Grant asked softly, thrusting his fingers in one last time.

Gerard pulled back, letting Frank’s cock slip from his mouth just long enough to gasp, “Yes, please, fuck– fuck me, Grant–”

Grant laid a warm palm on Gerard’s thigh then eased away to, presumably, grab the bottle of lubricant. Gerard went back to sucking Frank off so he wouldn’t whine. Grant would tease more if he did, as Gerard had found out to his amusement, and Frank’s intense frustration.

After a few moments, the head of Grant’s cock pressed against his entrance. Gerard moaned around Frank’s cock. Grant was gentle, but he wasn’t slow. He pushed in with short, sharp thrusts that sent sparks down Gerard’s spine.

Frank was thrusting too, small motions of his hips as his fingers clenched in Gerard’s hair. With his hands, Gerard encouraged Frank to thrust more, thrust harder. He wanted his voice to be wrecked tomorrow.

“Your fucking _mouth_ , Gee,” Frank moaned. He struggled up onto his knees so he could move more, and Grant tightened his hands on Gerard’s hips.

Frank started fucking his mouth in time with Grant’s thrusts. Gerard could hardly breathe, it was so good. And Grant was murmuring to him, kissing his shoulder blades, hands cupping his thighs. “The two of you are so fucking perfect.”

Gerard hummed, since he couldn’t talk. Hummed insistently enough that Frank swore and his hips kicked.

Grant’s fingers were biting into Gerard’s hips as he gave Gerard thrust after thrust. Frank was starting to lose it—Gerard could tell from the increasingly desperate tenor of his moans, the way his fingers clenched and unclenched in Gerard’s hair.

It startled them all when Grant was the first to come, with a gasp and a snap of his hips. Gerard had to pull off Frank to moan against his hip. Frank whined, but his fingers gentled in Gerard’s hair. Grant panted against Gerard’s back for a moment before pulling out, pulling another moan from Gerard. “Sorry, love,” Grant murmured, but he made up for it by kissing the small of Gerard’s back and thrusting three fingers inside of him.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasped. “I–” he took Frank back in his mouth. Grant reached around and wrapped his free hand around Gerard’s cock.

Gerard knew that if his mouth weren’t otherwise occupied he’d be moaning, gasping out praise. As it was, he hummed his pleasure around Frank’s cock, letting his eyes close again. He was close too, and he knew Frank was, and he was filled with a sudden urge for Frank to… mess him up.

He pulled back, pulled away and wrapped his hand around Frank’s cock and started stroking him. Frank hissed and arched up. “Fuck, Gee–” Just then, Grant crooked his fingers, sending sparks up Gerard’s spine.

“Grant,” he pled, voice cracking.

Grant kept stroking Gerard’s cock, kept thrusting his fingers as Gerard started to come apart. He tried to keep stroking Frank’s cock, but he lost the rhythm of it. Frank knew—Frank always knew. He wrapped one hand around himself and tightened the other in Gerard’s hair.

He was stroking fast, eyes locked on Gerard’s. Gerard couldn’t look away, panting harshly as he pushed back into Grant’s fingers, gasping and coming instantly even as he felt the first warm splashes of Frank’s come hit his face.

“Fuck,” Frank gasped. “Fuck, Gee. So… fuck.” Gerard wished he could see himself, but the look on Frank’s face was almost enough.

“Beautiful,” Grant murmured. “Both of you.”

“Frankie,” Gerard croaked. Frank swallowed visibly and pulled him up by his hair, pressing him up against Grant. Grant wrapped his arms around Gerard’s waist and licked over his cheek. Frank moaned.

“I love you two so fucking much,” Gerard murmured.

“I love hearing you say that,” Grant whispered in his ear.

Gerard rested one hand over Grant’s and tugged Frank closer. “Thank you. For everything,” he whispered.

Frank pressed a kiss to his throat. His tongue tickled Gerard’s messy skin, but he was whispering over and over, “Love you.”

Gerard took a deep, shaky breath and held onto both of them. He may have had his words back—for which he was still, forever thankful—but he didn’t have the words to describe how deeply he felt for Frank and Grant. Luckily, he didn’t need words when it came to the two of them. None of them did. And now, Gerard could honestly say he was truly, deeply thankful for the curse. Without it, he wouldn’t have this.

“You were worth everything,” he murmured, kissing the words into Frank’s skin, turning his head to find Grant’s lips. “And still are,” he added, leaning into Grant, feeling Frank warm against them. “And always will be.”


End file.
